


Wherever She May Be

by Lady_R



Category: One Piece
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Impel Down, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2020-10-18 19:17:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20644310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_R/pseuds/Lady_R
Summary: Baby 5 has chosen: not a new beginning as the wife of Don Sai, but hell, perpetual damnation, in the frozen bowels of Impel Down, alongside those she grew up with.After the cauldron of boiling blood and the torments from Sadi-chan, only eternal waiting for the end awaits the defeated Donquixiote Family. In the midst of perennial snow, where not even Den Den Mushi keep contact with the world, without a Young Master to follow to the world and back, Baby 5 has never felt less needed.Yet, before Sai, she had called her cellmates “family”. And it will be hell itself to remind her why.





	1. Dreams And Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby 5 has regrets. Diamante misses a thing. The Young Master is nowhere to be found.

There’s Sai, amidst the crowd.

His eyes avert themselves from her when she looks at him. _I’m sorry_, her lips repeat, but the audience’s jeers cover up her voice. _I’m sorry, I loved you, but someone needs me_.

They would have been a family. There’d have been a wedding and a funeral. Then she had remembered that she already had a family, she fit in there. It was not fair. And the customers of the still intact bar were mentioning a “walk of shame”: a show not to be missed if you didn’t know them close and you hated them. _I’m sorry, Sai. I hope Miss Uholisia is good to you_.

Something cold and slippery strikes her in the face. It shatters on her skin, sinks into her hair, burns her eyes like seawater. 

_Why, Sai? Let me be_. Her hands are bound behind her back, the seastone weighs on her like the whole royal palace – she can’t breathe. _Sai, please, stop it_. 

She trips on her shackles and sinks into the floor, as flaccid as mud. Down, and further down, towards the depth of the ocean. Help, she screams, and a trail of bubbles vanishes towards the surface. 

_Young Master_, she screams. _Young Master. Buffalo. Trebol. Diamante. Pica. Monet_. No, Monet is dead, she can’t help her, why does she always have to be so stupid. _Someone help me. Mama. Mama_. The seastone cinches her skin and bites her to the bone. Baby 5 screams a mute scream, while tears burn her eyes. 

The chains ring all over the room. The dim light of a candle projects the shadow of the bars against the wood, as long and lanky as fingers ready to grab and squish her. Like the gigantic hand of Pica punishing her for her betrayal – _I’m sorry, he also laughed at you, I know it hurts you, but he needed me_. -I wish you could understand.- 

-Who’re you talking to?-

The Marine sitting by the table removes an earring from her short raven hair. -You’ve been blabbering on your own for five minutes, begging whoever for help.- She raises her eyes, like a disappointed teacher. -You’re waking us all up. Go back to sleep at once.- 

Baby 5 nods, gulping. It’d be great to sleep, if she could. The first evening she has woken up five times, and five more has she fallen back asleep just to land back in chains behind Buffalo, as the scorned people of Dressrosa throws rotten vegetables and rotten eggs in her face and yells “Flamingo’s bitch” and “murderous monster” at her. Sweat runs down her hair, her chest, her back. Yet she has goosebumps, and watches in envy the coat the Marine woman is wrapped into.

-Do not be so harsh. The girl’s frightened. They humiliated her, remember?-

The second Marine sits by the porthole, a gun thrown on her plump knees. Her hair are pistachio green, as curly and thick as Buffalo’s. A bow of the same color dangles on her fuchsia blouse, underneath the coat with the insignia. The black haired one shoots her a dismissive glance, almost a _pitiful _one. 

-It’s been five days ago. I expected better from an executive of Donquixiote.- 

The black-haired Marine drinks something smoky from a mug, and Baby 5’s mouth fills with saliva. She would give her Devil Fruit for a sip, and maybe a nice cigarette too. They’d help her sleep. 

-Not everyone is like the captain,- the other says. -Many are orphans, taken from terrible environments. The youngest is sixteen. They’re mostly like this one.- 

She sighs, leaning her forehead on her fingers. -Those people. This one’s young as well. They must have taken her as a child at least. How old are you, dear?-

-Twenty-four,- she croaks out. -They found me at five.- 

The black haired one shakes her head. -Pirate crews are no place for a little girl. We should talk about it to Vice-admiral Tsuru. Uprooting piracy, this is what we need.- 

-You don’t know them.- Baby 5 pants. -They gave me a place. I can be needed by them.- 

-Lower your voice. There’s more prisoners. The man with the neck brace sleeps very badly.- 

-He has a name, it’s Diamante.- 

Baby 5’s voice is much thinner than she’d want. She covers her mouth with her fingers, blushing, and leans her cheek on the floor. The Marines stare at one another. 

-Diamante, that wretch.- The green-haired woman stares at the porthole, towards the full moon. -He drools like an infant and trembles like an oldster. To think, he was a gladiator before. I’d not wish a broken neck on my greatest enemy.- 

-Tell me he’ll be fine.- Baby 5 raises her face from the floor. -I couldn’t prevent it, no one could. We’re going to _Impel Down_. That Kyros did it on purpose, he knew!-

Kyros, the one-legged warrior who defeated her and Buffalo as if they’d been two insects. Once she had dreamed of that as well: Diamante falls backwards, topples towards the pole hidden in the sunflowers, slams his nape and rolls into the flowers with his head tilted to the side. Quite a sad grave, for a princess of Dressrosa, but just enough for posthumous vengeance. She dreams of Buffalo’s clenched teeth as Kyros turns his neck like to a pig, the blood on Dellinger’s chest and on the blade of the demon who defeated him, the flames engulfing Trebol and Pica’s shrill scream as he falls in between the fragments of the statue of himself. And the Young Master’s shattered sunglasses as he sinks into the floor of Dressrosa, defeated last like all the others. 

-I’m not surprised you’re afraid. Impel Down is no pretty place.- The black-haired one takes another sip and wipes her lips with a napkin. -Your friend can only blame himself. The same goes for you. Deserting at the last minute: as clever as she’s strong.- 

-I didn’t mean to. I loved him, but I came back,- Baby 5 repeats, and frantically blinks. She wants to be strong, as a worthy Pirate of Donquixiote; she manages during the day, but at every new awakening she forgets it, and she has to remind herself that now _it’s all done_. 

-Go back to sleep, dearie,- the green-haired Marine says. -It’s over for you all now. Just think the worst is yet to come.- 

Baby 5 bites her lips: she can’t cry, she can’t scream, yet it’s all _there_ pushing to come out. She curls up in the midst of the seastone and hides her face in her arms. 

The cell is as wide as a tavern, surrounded by seastone bars as thick as her arm. The walls are icy white, as all the rest is. Just a lifted floor breaks the monotony.

Baby 5’s legs tremble in the snow, and she instinctively clings to the man in uniform at her right. 

-Now you can rest,- he says, but there’s no affection in her words. -Has Sadi-chan gone harsh on you? She cut you on the inside and stitched you on the outside?-

Baby 5 mumbles a no, rubbing her hands on her cheeks, humid of snow. The she-devil seemed sad as she unchained the weights on her ankles. -I hoped for some nice wailing. They had told me you were the weakest of the bunch.- She’d have spat in her face, had there been saliva in her mouths. Then the chains had been removed from her wrists and she had found herself on the ground, curled up on her knees like a pupped being thrown away. 

-Here it is. All happy together.- The voice comes from behind her, but Baby 5 doesn’t feel like turning around. -There you can chat as much as you want to. No one can hear you. No one will wipe your tears if you cry. You’re in hell, babies: but who are we to separate such a close-knit family?-

_I don’t want to_, Baby 5 thinks. _I need to go, I’m the betrothed to Don Sai of the land of Kano, and he needs me_. She clenches her fists, as if they had started throwing trash at her again. She needs to choose, at some point – she already chose, and it’s too late to complain. 

Her legs fall again as the door is opened, and brusque and tight hands grab onto her, pushing her forward. They push her to her knees on the stone, cold enough to burn through her ugly striped uniform. 

Baby 5 keeps the incoming scream inside and crawls away from the entrance to let the others through. Trebol’s hands are tightened around his body, his lips and chin are striped in dried brown mucus. Machvise turns to the side to pass through the door. He holds Jora and Dellinger on his back like potato sacks, but he places them against the wall slowly, one next to the other. Lao G covers his nose with his left hand; his right arm is slung on the shoulder of Gladius, whose teeth chatter at every step. The water dripping from his clothes mixes up on the floor with the blood coming from Buffalo’s thighs. Diamante lays in the chopper-man’s arms, eyes shut, hair tangled with the cast on his neck and arms nestled on his chest. Sugar falls and sits next to the bars: the sleeves of her uniform run way beyond her hands, dangling at every breath she takes, and the suit’s legs are folded around her ankles. Señor Pink holds his jaw with his hands. 

_This should be all of us_, Baby 5 thinks; but the tinge of relief is interrupted by Gladius’ voice. 

-There’s eleven of us.- He sneezes, and uses his sleeve to wipe his nose. Diamante’s hands are shaking, even worse than before. Buffalo lays him down against the wall, and his long brown hair fall around his face dirty and opaque. 

-Where’s Pica?- the gladiator blurts out freeing his face. The white light of the snow makes his humid eyes shine even more. -He wasch with you, where did he go?-

Machvise stares at his feet. -The lady with the pink trousers had him taken in another room. I haven’t seen him since then-in.- 

-But I heard her. She said “I’ll make this soprano sing, or I won’t be called Sadi-chan anymore”.- Gladius places a hand on his shoulder, shuddering. Baby 5 tightens her fists, her teeth, and wants to clench her eyes shut as well not to see Diamante, his damp eyes, shaking arms folding on his chest as if he still had a cape of steel to wrap himself into.

-I will kill her,- he says through his teeth. -Scharlett would be scho lucky.-

He clenches his teeth, shrinking into a ball. His hands, held tightly by the handcuffs, push against his chest. -Uuh…-

-Don’t strain yourself. Stay down. Pica will be alright, he’s a toughie. You know him well more than us.-

As if Machvise hadn’t walked behind his back, as if he hadn’t seen. Pica is stone, but he’s not invulnerable: the Pirate Hunter knows, and so does all of Dressrosa after the walk of shame. 

Baby 5 shakes her head. It’ll be fine. We’re all together, and soon we’ll see him again. We’re the Donquixiote Family and no one knocks us down. She would tell them, but has no voice. She trembles underneath the coarse fabric that covers her, leaning on the bars. 

There’s an eerie, wrong silence in these four walls, interrupted by the whines of her burnt, abused family. Snow coats the far-off landscape, the borders vanish into the blinding white, but not a string of wind lifts its fragments. 

Gladius hugs himself, shivering. Without his mask, his skin is as pale as alabaster. Black veins, as thick as a pencil trace, run down his face. 

-Let’s try and see. Sugar, burnt palms. Dellinger, same thing to his feet.- 

-We’re torture siblings!-. The boy grabs Sugar’s wrist and raises it to the ceiling of the cellar. Sugar rips it off his hold. -Go die,- she growls.

-But it’s true!- Dellinger crosses his arms. -Show them to me, Sugar, and I’ll prove it your arms are like my feet.-

-It’d throw my hands on you,- Sugar hisses. A pile of snow lays on her side like a handbag: she rolls up her sleeves and places her palms into it, clenching her teeth. -And afterwards comes that accursed Sadi-chan. I’ll pull up her neck like the hen she is.- 

Gladius nods, sniffing. Baby 5 can’t blame him: not even does she want it to start a fuss. The stones are cold, harsh, and she has to sleep on them. 

-Then they broke Lao G’s nose, Pink’s jaw with the… what did they call it?-

-Pear of Agony. With the “G”.- The old man pats Señor’s shoulder, and the younger man drops his shoulders with a resigned sigh. He taps his belly with his palm, cuts the air with his hand, shrugs as if it was fine like that after all. 

-They used burning stakes with Diamante,- Buffalo continues. -Pica… I recall they were whipping him, but it didn’t seem: he didn’t make a peep.-

-Schtupid child of mine, uhh.- Diamante holds his hands to his chest, a shrill wail escapes his clenched teeth. He’s missing at least three – and he’s missing Pica as well. Baby 5 gulps, praying whoever that her gigantic brother could be fine. He had entered the scalding cauldron first (“I am stone, I don’t get burnt and someone has to do this”) and had come out livid and shaking, as the jailers bent over forward in laughter and asked their superiors if Domino had called a soprano choir to pass time.

_As if they hadn’t humiliated us enough. As if they didn’t want to hurt us more afterwards. _Jora holds onto Diamante’s limp wrist, she who only could, among them, know what he’s going through, and points at her legs with the other hand. 

-They wrecked my ankles fine, zamazu.- The old woman holds Dellinger close as if she never wanted to let him go. -Then they burnt your chest hair, and Baby 5?-

-The weights…- she whispers. -It was nothing. It’ll pass.- 

-It’ll all pass.- Gladius sniffs again, wiping a string of snow from his crooked, white nose, and Trebol shakes his head making his oily hair dangle. -Whatcha doin’, imitating me? Ne, Gladius, I’m the original and only.- 

-I have a cold, what’s with that?- He punches the floor and sniffs again. -Burning blood in the cauldron, freezing water with Sadi-chan, and here I am. Right now I’d sell your head for a cup of tea.- 

-Ne!- Trebol pulls out his tongue, coughing. -But there’s no tea here. There’s snow, we can give you that. Solid snow, molten snow, or halfway through. Whatever you want, behehehe.- 

He interrupts himself, in the midst of coughing. His mouth is agape, and he strikes his own chest with his fist without covering himself up with the other. 

-What wash that?- Diamante slurs. 

-Nothing. Go back to sleep, ne.- 

-I wash..-, Diamante emits a throaty sound, like a cat spitting out a furball, -not shleeping. And you’re… too closche.- 

Trebol wipes his mouth with his sleeve and slaps Diamante’s shoulder with his palm, his nose almost stuck to his cheek. -Ne, you should. I’d gladly take a nap. What’s gonna happen in here anyway? They can’t keep pulling at my arm with that contraption, ne?-

Now Baby 5 too has a “torture sibling”: and Trebol is lanky, crooked, hunched, doesn’t have her thin muscles and speed. The least she can do to be of use, now, is not bother. It’s still too wrong, too painful, to hurt for real.

-Sleep away.- Lao G doesn’t turn around to answer. -No one’s watching, you can do whatever you please. Watching, with…-

_…with the “G”_. Baby 5 forms a pillow with her arms, reclining her head into it. I’m in hell, and there’s no escape. At least, maybe the cold will keep the nightmares at bay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This story is a sequel to my previous work, The Lever Falls, which you can find here. https://archiveofourown.org/works/20444195. For those who haven't read it: in it, the Donquixiote Family is forced to complete a Walk of Shame through the streets of Dressrosa. Baby 5 finds the strength in her to dump Don Sai, thus giving him back to his old bethroted Uholisia, and joins her family in their humiliation all the way to Impel Down.  
2\. Unlike The Lever Falls, this one is not going to be a songfic. There will sometimes be song quotes at the beginning, or some Aerosmith quotes in the dialogue for an obvious joke, but that's where it ends.  
3\. The backstories and character relationships present in this verse are all personal headcanon.  
4\. I don't usually feel comfortable at inserting everyday sexism in my verse. The work whose fandom I come from, Dark Souls, is set in an egalitarian world where gender has no impact on one's life. I have a personal veto against explicit sexual violence, but there may be hints of other sexist realities.  
5\. Pica will be fine. I have more pain (and backstory) for him as well as for the others.  
6\. I have two different stories to credit for this idea, and for giving me the courage of going full ahead with it. One is Thicker Than Blood by ScriptedScarlet [https://archiveofourown.org/works/6501565/chapters/14882863], and the other is Negative Space by Milo [https://archiveofourown.org/works/8174923/chapters/18730165]. I am truly thankful to both authors for their work and the love given to this amazing family of precious disasters.


	2. In Between The Rubble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby 5 has a speech to make. Pica returns in shambles. Señor Pink has ideas to share.

When the door squeaks, Baby 5 opens one eye. A shadow looms above her as the other one flies open. 

-Wakey-wakey,- Trebol’s nasally voice whispers. -Ne, wake up, Didi. The prodigal stone has returned.- 

Baby 5 stretches on her fours in between the clanking of chains, as Machvise and Buffalo stretch their cuffed arms towards the newcomer. Droplets of blood pour from his shoulders to the tip of his fingers. He whines at every gesture, kneeling on the frozen floor, chained hands clenched in fists bigger than cannonballs. 

Baby 5 stands up, grabbing onto the bars, and takes a deep breath not to scream. She has never seen so much blood on one person. It drips from his mouth, from the legs of his uniform, from his scalp, and drenches the fabric on his back so much it mixes up the black stripes with the white ones. The flesh spikes on his shoulders have been cut to the root, circles of more blood – tight binds, surely – run all down the length of his arms. 

-I’m here,- Diamante whispers, and holds those huge fists in his hands. -It’sh all fine. You made it. It…- he rips a string of saliva off his mouth. -It’sch all over, pebble of mine.- 

Pica reclines his humid cheek on the crossed legs of the older man, lets go of his hands so that they can shakily caress his dirty, matted hair. He emits a shapeless, hoarse “mh”, not unlike the creaking of a metallic gate. Diamante removes a humid brown strand from his face, runs his index down his cheek from the eye to the chin. 

_This is what we could have been, mama_. Baby 5 wants to slap herself for that thought: _he needs me_, she reminds herself, _they whipped him like the very last of dogs only for his voice, he must have been in there for hours_. He’s a huge man and a mighty warrior, but even a mountain can crumble with the proper pick. His eyes are red, humid underneath the eyelids, and pink teeth chatter between the square jaws. 

Gladius pushes Baby 5 to the wall and leans towards his Executive’s back. 

-Lay on your belly, like so. I know, it’s cold. You’ll get used to this.- 

-They used a dented whip, look at this,- Buffalo grunts. 

-We must open this suit,- Machvise attempts. -It’s gotten stuck, help me.- 

Sugar unfolds her right sleeve and places the excess fabric in between the man’s teeth. -Bite,- she whispers. -Now you can relax. You have bags under your eyes as big as me.-

_The snow, he needs the snow. We must clean him_. Baby 5 stretches her arm beyond the bars and takes a handful of it. -Here, use it. Buffalo, your hands are bigger. Take more.- 

She smears the snow as if it was an ointment, following the mosaic of lacerated skin with her fingers. The Executive of Spades’ shoulders quiver, his teeth hold onto Sugar’s sleeve for a moment before letting go. 

-Three fingernails ripped,- the child-woman indicates coldly. -Indexes, and right little finger. Open your mouth,- she tilts her head, -his teeth are cracked, he’s missing a canine here. No surprise he can’t bite. And here,- she points to a spot on the back of his head, -all hair are gone. That harridan really wanted to hear his scream.-

There’s a bloated red stain on his bare, dark skin. Diamante blinks, with a shaky index he covers the empty spot with the remaining strand of hair.

-And did you scream, pebbles?-

Pica’s hair brush on the stones as he shakes his head, Dellinger claps once. Lao G raises his thumb. Even Diamante stops shaking for a moment. 

-Ne.- Trebol settles against the wall and strokes the other man’s bloodied hair with a surprisingly clean hand. -That rotten thing will have to change her name.. 

-His hair are stuck to his back.- Jora pulls a fistful of purple hair to the side, stained in blood to the tip. _It could be a paintbrush in her hands, and then we’d not be there_. 

-Fix it, Dellinger.- 

The boy raises his fist. -Kyaah! Can I also braid his hair? Eh, Pica? Picaaaa?-

A nod. Dellinger claps, and shifts on his knees all the way to the other’s head. -I promise I won’t tug. I’m good, you’ll see. You won’t feel a thing.- 

Baby 5 smiles, and for the first time since she’s been there she feels warmth in her chest. The Executive of Spades groans against the floor, shrilly, furious eyes veiled by fatigue. 

-It’s alright,- Baby 5 says. -You got through this. We’re here. Now you can rest.- 

Pica’s left eye, as lucid as glass, turns towards her.

“Thanks” his lips form, but no sound escapes them. 

When they’re done cleaning him, Dellinger sits on Pica’s side and runs his little fingers through the grimy hair. The warrior lays on his side, curled in a ball with his knees to his chest, his cheek reclined on Diamante’s legs. The gladiator’s shaky hands stroke his cheeks as if he was never tired of them. 

-You’re warm,- Diamante whispers. One hand is open underneath his chin, ready to catch any drop of salive may still offend Pica’s face. -I know it hurtsh, but try to shleep. Do ash you did ash a child.-

The warrior closes his eyes, breathing gently. Before Baby 5 realizes it he is faintly snoring, and he holds onto Diamante’s long legs as if they had been a pillow. 

-Yesh, all good.- Holding with strain onto his trembling hands, the Officer of Diamonds lowers himself to kiss his forehead. He wipes the drool with his sleeve. 

-They grow sho fast,- he sighs. -He wash a tiny thing, all cheeksh, the firsht time he did thish.

-When you pulled him out of that landslide, ne?- Trebol sniffs. -He probably was already bigger than you.- 

Diamante nods, attempting a smile on his lips lucid of drool. -He wash all covered in… i-in gravel. All grey, even in…- he wipes his mouth again and slams his hand on the floor. -…in the hair. Ash if he wash born there, in between the rock.- 

-Bur you kept him,- Buffalo grins. -Seven years old and already full of paternal instinct, dasuyan.-

-Ain’t it obvious? All proper rockstars adopt themselves a couple children to spoil. You had the sense of choosing one that’s worth two. Even three.-

Diamante doesn’t laugh at Dellinger’s words. -I’m fine with what I have.- He wrings the fabric on his wrists, humid in drool, and rubs a droplet of blood off Pica’s cheek. 

Baby 5 shuts her eyes. She pictures a seven years old Diamante – three-point hat, soft brown hair, thin-cut lip – holding a two years old Pica as big as if he was double his age in his arms. Diamante adjusts his embrace on the child, wraps him tighter into his cape, prints a kiss on his forehead the color of wine remains – every worthy rockstar can’t go without lipstick – and leads him to wash himself in the river running besides the wreckage. Pica is grey, soaked in rubble and grit all the way to his mouth, except the tear-stained cheeks. He holds onto Diamante’s chest as if he had known him forever, and when the older child lays him on his fours in the tepid warm water, a silvery “pikyah-pikyah-pikyahrara” rings in between the crumbled buildings. Diamante smiles, pokes his cheek, tells him it’ll all be alright and he’ll always keep him with himself, he’ll teach him to fend for himself, he’ll feed him, they’ll be just like a real family. 

It’s the moment he utters that final line that Diamante vanishes. In between the folds of his cape a black, skinny figure, with big, hungry, rabid eyes. Pica too is no longer Pica: he has black hair and light skin, his eyes are another color, and is wearing a brown rag that’s supposed to resemble a dress. And he’s a little girl. 

The faceless woman leans upon the little girl, no longer stained in rubble but just as grey, and stares at her as if there was nothing filthier in the world.

-_Useless people aren’t needed by anyone_.- 

-AH!-

Baby 5 raises her head from the floor, blinking. _I don’t have a mother, I never had one_. The chains were smushed on her chest, and as she leans on the wall again she feels pain underneath her breasts. Diamante shoots her a furious glance, but Pica simply clenches his fists. Baby 5 sighs in relief. 

-What is it?- Machvise asks. Baby 5 shakes her head, fixing her hair. They’re grimy, they leave a viscous sensation on the fingers, not unlike sea foam. 

-Nothing, Vise. I’m just agitated.- 

Dellinger waves his hand at her, raising a braid the size of a mooring rope. -Come braid Pica with me. His hair are amazing.- 

-I pass,- she whispers, but she still shifts closer, curling up next to Buffalo. -I’m fine watching. Maybe later you can comb me.- 

Dellinger nods, and raises more strands of hair. 

_It was just a vision_, Baby 5 reminds herself. _I’ll probably never see her again_. Buffalo raises his hand towards her shoulder: she shakes her head. 

Everything’s _normal_, in its silent desolation. Gladius sneezes, Trebol harks, Jora massages her hands. Pica twists in his sleep feverishly, and Diamante strokes his cheeks. -_I know nobody knowsch, where it comesh and where it goesh…_\- he sings, but another droplet of drool runs from above his incisors, and his shaking hands suddenly clench in two fists. 

-Kyrosch,- he sputters. -I will…-

-You won’t do a thing, because we’re in Impel Down.-

The tense vein on Gladius’ forehead is comforting in that strange, different world. -We’re trapped like fish in a barrel and we’re never leaving from here.- 

-Knock it off.- Jora blows onto her fingers. -You’re depressing, and I don’t feel like being depressed.- 

-Not much else to do.- Gladius raises his voice, and Diamante shoots him another ice-cold glance. -No point in staring. He’s no better than us. Neither are you.- 

-That is no way to talk to your Top Executive,- Buffalo intervenes. 

-Nee, let him talk,- Trebol says. -Look what he’s been made into, and this is just a taste. The _walk_ was just a taste.- 

Baby 5 clenches her lips shut. She folds her arms in a straight angle, one towards the other, so that the tips of her middle fingers touch one another. She has enough room to do so: even that walk would have felt shorter, if she could have done so. But her hands were behind her back, tied to one another with tight rings, and tilting her head wasn’t enough to shield her face from the throws. 

She still doesn’t know whether or not to be grateful that Sai wasn’t there. Maybe he’d have given a positive word for them. Maybe he’d have covered her in a mantle, as Señor Pink’s followers were trying. Maybe he’d have carried her to safety, without giving her the time to say goodbye. She shakes her head again. The viscous sensation of vegetables and eggs had gone away once and for all when she had been thrown into the cauldron: nightmares deserve a similar end. 

-They’ll shatter us like they did with him. They’ll cut us, torment us, whip us bloody as long as they want to. These are our lives, now.- 

-Gladius, shut up_-zamazu_.- 

-This is no city jail.- Gladius scratches snot residuals off his face. -Impel Down. We’re in Impel Down. Level Five, Frozen Hell.-. He articulates the words as if there was a child in front of him. 

-Don’t call me “top model”, that’s not the moment.- Jora’s face is red, and not just for the cold. -We just need to figure out the environment. We’re the Donquixiote Family.- 

-We were the Donquixiote Family. Now we’re just twelve wrecks, who will freeze and rot like all the others.- 

-I don’t want to rot and die!- Dellinger raises his cuffed wrists in front of his face. -Fighting Fish live in temperate waters. My whole face would become blue!- 

-Bad for you. Have you seen what they did to Pica, Dellinger? Look at this.-

He points at Pica’s palms and wrists. -They used his hands as pincushions. How long do you think it’ll last? How long do you think we’ll last?-

-Stop it, please!- 

Baby 5 raises her neck. Everyone stares at her, not just Diamante – she staggers back, her face ablaze despite the cold. _Now what do I do?_ It’s not like back home, these aren’t the troops she commands upon: they’re her family, the one she betrayed for a handsome warrior without even thinking, the one who got beat up by the gladiators and the pirates while she was sighing after Sai – the one that was looking at her like a stranger while the Marines clenched her neck, wrists and ankles in seastone and took off her shoes, apron, goggles and bonnet to throw them in a dustbin behind her back. A young Marine, with sunglasses, had grabbed onto her breasts. 

_Why do I always have to be so naive?_ Buffalo’s hand opens again above her, like a blanket to curl up into, and this time Baby 5 doesn’t push him away. She smiles, to thank him without wasting more words. Buffalo is familiar, and it’s familiar that she needs under there. 

-I just mean…-

-Do you have something to tell us?- Sugar says. -Come on. We have all the time in the world, we can listen to you too.- 

Baby 5 turns once more to Pica’s hands, bigger than her whole face, striped in blood in between the fingers. Furrows emerge in between the red strings, lacerations as thick as her fingers. They don’t seem fresh. Some look as if they’ve been there for months. 

_Some old battle, some laughing passerby: I’m too paranoid_. 

She gulps. -What I mean,- she leans on the bars and stands up, as if there was a whole army underneath her waiting for a speech, -is that we’re all falling into it. I don’t even recognize you, infighting like this. It must be why they keep us together. They want us to suffer, seeing one another shattered.- 

-The Marine that was guarding me,- Sugar whispers, -said that our walk has appeared in all newspapers. The world knows. The name “Donquixiote” has become a worldwide laughingstock.- 

Buffalo’s hold around her side tenses. -A hefty information to deliver like this_-dasuyan_.-

Sugar furrows her brow. -That guy treated me like a stupid ankle-biter. He grabbed Vice-Admiral Tsuru’s coat, on his knees. “Please, at least let the little girl go.”. Had I not been cuffed…-

-Ne, I wish I had seen it. Behehe,- Trebol gurgles. Sugar huffs. -Only you could enjoy such a thing. I hope you drop dead.- 

-So here we are,- Machvise whispers. -No point in recriminating_-in_.-

-When I found him...- Diamante runs his hand on Pica’s two braids. Dellinger takes them and wraps one upon the other as if they were shrouds. -I. I made him a promishe.- 

A bolus of spit leaps off Diamante’s teeth, right on Sugar’s face. The woman-child wipes herself with her sleeve, teeth clenched shut. 

-I told him- Diamante pants, hands shaking around Pica’s massive body -told him that… one day I’d be famoush…- he breathes in, out again, wipes his mouth with his shirts, -in all the world, and we’d never have shuffered… ever again.- 

He lowers his head, as if he was expecting an axe to decapitate him. Baby 5 and Buffalo look at one another with widened eyes. Diamante’s lips tremble, his arched eyebrows seem to dig into his forehead. 

-Ne, don’t scourge yourself.- Trebol leans his hand, dripping in mucus, on his shoulder. -All stars are bad at promises, ne?- 

Diamante swats the hand away. -I was a schtar, and now I talk like a…- He strikes the wall behind him. -Bloody Kyrosch, you ruined me.- 

-You’re still a star. It’s not something that can be taken away.- 

Baby 5 kneels by his side, places her hands upon his as if to placate his tremor. -We’ll find a way. It’s what the Young Master would want. What we all need.-

-And you all know about _need_, do you?-

Gladius again, that despondent tone again. Tears push into Baby 5’s eyes, her lips quiver, her nose itches. 

-No,- she whispers. -No,- she repeats in a louder tone. -But I do know another thing: until a week ago I was the wife of Don Sai, Commander of the Happo Navy. Now I’m just any other pirate, and I can’t feel my hands, nor feet.- 

-You’d not be complaining, had you remained with them,- Sugar says coldly. 

-But I haven’t, I’m right here. And what I know is that it’s not over, because it never is. You can never know how it’ll go. We were on top of the world, and now we’re on the ground. But I’ve been on the ground before. Don’t you remember?- 

_Useless people aren’t needed by anyone_. The little girl runs in between the trees, screaming “mama” to the point of losing her voice. Her feet bleed on the dry grass. The branches are claws, and they leave vermillion scratch marks on her damp face. _Mama, mama, I beg you. I’ll be of use to you. I’ll do what you want me to. I’ll die, if it pleases you_. Baby 5 fixes her hair, brushing her face. She did start crying after all, but the time hasn’t come to worry. Her family needs her.

-No,- Dellinger says calmly. -I don’t remember. I wasn't there.- 

-You should have seen her,- Jora sighs, -she was so cute with that yellow bow on her hair. Maybe we didn’t raise her wrong, if she came back.-

-Nee.- Trebol places his hands on Baby 5’s shoulders, and she leans upon Buffalo not to fall back. The Executive of Clubs’ face is a palm of distance from her face, so much so that she has to retreat not to brush her cheek on the droplets of mucus in his nose. -Ne, they defeated me, Diamante and Pica. They’d have cut you to shreds as well, ne. And she did the walk with us, what else do we need? Behehehe.- 

Gladius exchanges a glance with Jora, with Lao G, with Machvise – even Señor Pink stops stroking his own jaw and blinks at them. 

-What if- he asks -the little tramp was right indeed?-

He puckers his lips as if he still had the pacifier. -You never know how low you can go. Or how high. Life is such a strange thing.- He brushes his own jaw, takes a deep breath. He barely moves his lips, his cheeks are livid. Baby 5 doesn’t know for how long she has slept – nor would asking it change a thing – and she can’t even imagine how painful for him it is to speak. But Señor Pink is hard-boiled enough to get through that as well.

-One moment you have something marvelous, and the next it’s gone. Poof.- Pink picks up a fistful of snow and puffs it out of the bars. -Or the opposite happens too. You can come across something amazing without imaging what it’ll be. Life is strange. You have to learn to take it this way, and we’d all be better.- 

He blows the air again, dabs another fistful of snow on his fcae. Gladius opens his mouth, but doesn’t answer back. “Thanks”, Baby 5 whispers, and Señor Pink raises his thumb-

-Only a hard-boiled one could reason this way.- Dellinger claps his hands – gently, as Diamante is staring – and wraps Señor Pink in a sudden hug. -I’m a Fighting Fish and I refuse to stop now.- 

-I’m with Dellinger,- Jora says. -You’re nice at calling me Miss Universe, dear, but now we’d better save our strengths.- She points at Pica’s motionless body, a meter away from her. -This poor thing needs to recover.-

As if he had heard them, Pica blinks and raises his hand to meet Diamante’s wrist. The gladiator lowers his head. -Happy awakening, pebbles. Can you schit up?-

A nod. Pushing on his palms, Pica turns to sit and curls up in his place between Diamante and Sugar. Dellinger stretches forward: -I made you a bun, do you like it?-

The braids are balled up one on the other, in a compact sphere well far from the bloodied back. Even the naked hole where the strands have been ripped is no longer visible. Pica runs his knuckles on it. 

“Nice”, he pronounces without a sound. Diamante shakes his head. -Now you can talk.- 

Pica shakes his head no. He runs his index sideways in front of his mouth, as if he was pulling up a zipper, and places it perpendicular in the center of his lips. He stares at the ground, towards his stone brethren, as if he wanted to jump into it and stay in there for all eternity. 

-Are you hoarse?- Buffalo asks. “No”, Pica’s lips form. “I made a vow of silence. No one will use my voice against me until these cuffs are off me.”

Baby 5 and Buffalo exchange another glance. -Don’t play at Sadi-chan’s game,- he whispers. -Come on, speak. We won’t laugh, dasuyan.- 

Pica shakes his head again. “I’m fine”. Diamante raises his head to the ceiling, as much as the neck brace allows him to. 

-Shadi-chan…-

-Let him,- Jora whispers to him. -It’ll pass. He releases it in his own way, as we all do. Soon we’ll hear his sweet timbre, zamazu.- 

_I wonder if he’s still mad at me. He thanked me before, maybe while he was_ in there_ he thought back on it all_. -We were just talking about you,- Machvise says. -Do you feel charged up enough to fight by our side-in?-

Pica picks up a fistful of snow and dabs his humid fingers on his forehead. He conjoins his fists, thumb to thumb, index to index, and turn his wrists to the side, as if he was breaking a big branch in half. 

-Silent, but eloquent,- Lao G comments. -I like it.- 

-I raished him, c-can’t you shee?- Diamante blinks. -I’m with him, ash alwaysh.-

Sugar too raises her thumb, and Trebol sniffs with the sound of a sewer pump.

-Nee, eventually someone says something that makes sense.- 

-I see I’m outnumbered,- Gladius says coldly. -I hope it’s worth it.- 

Baby 5 nods a yes. She shifts closer to Buffalo, and his huge hand faintly squeezes her shoulder. -That was good, dasuyan.- 

Baby 5 wipes her tears. _It’ll be fine. We can do this. I couldn’t live with myself if I was out there while they suffer in here_.

The little girl sits against the parapet of the flamingo-ship, wrapped in a pink woolen blanket. The blonde bearded man pops his eyes out and pulls out his tongue to make her laugh. The woman with the bright mane combs her hair with a solid gold brush. The young man with the mask hands her a smoky mug.The man with the cape and the one with the big shoulders exchange a serious glance. 

The man with the pink coat kneels by her side, smiling like to a little sister. He asks her _what’s your name_. The little girl doesn’t know; Baby Five is not a name, she can’t say such a thing to the nice people who saved her. Yet she says so, because it’s rude not to answer question, and no one seems to be bothered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Yes, all the Familia can read lip-sync. One has to know such things. And such big lips make it easier as well.  
2\. Numancia Flamingo is the ship of my dream.  
3\. Pica doesn't scream during the abundant tortures he goes through (even if he did scream at the cauldron, as it has been shown before), but he did scream abundantly when Zoro cut him. The consequence of this is that a cut from Zoro is more painful than hours of torture. Or the torturers suck. But the first seems more credible.  
4\. Señor Pink agrees with Baby 5's speech for a very clear reason.  
6\. I'm starting to realize that Diamante's speaking quirk can come off unpleasant to the reader. I'm trying to make him speak as little as possible, but sometimes he has something to say himself. I hope it's not annpoying, and if it is I'm open to suggestions on how to make it less irritating.  
6\. Diamante's song is Dream On. I don't have to say by who.  
7\. In this chapter, two future events are foreshadowed. Let's see if you can guess them.


	3. Family Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby 5 reminisces. Diamante's hands are fragile, but not his spirit. Trebol goes for a detour.

Mama had red eyes, that evening, and a bruise on the neck in the shape of a half-moon. 

-Never, ever refuse food, Baby Five.- 

Babies One, Two, Three and Four lay behind the home. Sometimes Mama visited them, but she never allowed her to come any close. From her window, Baby Five saw the floor wooden crosses, and Mama kneeling over them fixing the rocks placed in a circle. A flower could have been neat, but there were none around. 

-Food is precious. You eat what I give you without a fuss. If I see that grossed out face again I give you so many, you never forget’em.- 

The bread was grey, hard enough to knock down a tree – not that Baby 5 had ever even seen a tree, for Mama never wanted her to leave home. -No one must know you exist. Accept what I bring you, and don’t you dare follow me when I go out.- 

_If Mama came to find out what they feed me here, and that I eat it without complaining, she’d be proud of me_. Maybe she’d even give her a kiss: like Jora with Dellinger, and Diamante with Pica. They seem pleasant to receive. Sai’s may have been even sweeter. 

The bowl is wooden, the size of a pot. The rice tinkles as it’s poured in. 

-It’s frozen.- Gladius hisses. -How do we eat it?-

-That’s what you get. Settle.- 

The man in uniform blows on pale hands. -If you want to season it, check if someone still has tomato stuck in their hair.- 

Baby 5 covers her reddened cheeks with a strand of hair. They have the consistency of a bicycle chain, and no reflection on the surface. 

-There’s your faces all over the news. They had thrown you a milkshake, haven’t they?- his partner asks. Taller, dark of skin like Pica, short black hair. He wears sunglasses, as all the jailors do, but Baby 5 knows his eyes are glowing as he reminds Gladius, all of them, what they’ve been- 

-Frozen mint. Made you wanna lick it off your face.- 

-Is that one the hard-boiled guy?- his partner stretches an arm through the bar, pointing at Señor Pink. -It’s him alright. The fatso that had himself protected by those five tramps?-

Pink puckers his lips, sucking on a pacifier that isn’t there. -Such vulgarities do not befit a man worthy of his name.- he proclaims, but the two jailers have turned another way. 

-And those two, how can they not be seen.- 

-Ignore them, pebbles.- Diamante places his open arm on Pica’s round shoulder. -You’re not in proper state. You’ll wreck them once we’re gone.- 

-Daddy, help me!- the older man shrieks in falsetto. -They all make fun of me because I have an itty-bitty soprano voice!- He brings his fists to his face and simulates the gesture of wiping tears. -The bad fish-boy bit off my balls!-

-Don’t worry, daddy’s little darling, I can drool all over them until they go away.- the other grins. Diamante takes a deep breath; Pica leans his palm on the floor, as if the stone could react to the contact. 

-Waste of effort, it doesn’t work.- The darker man breathes in, without losing his grin. -None of your Devil Fruits work. You’re the toys, down here.-

-Go teach the rokushiki to the Sea Kings.- Sugar emerges from Machvise’s arms and stares at them with incandescent eyes. Her nose is read, a drip of mucus dangles underneath her right nostril. She wipes herself with the back of her hand. -Could you leave, at least now that we’re eating?-

-We have orders.- the darker one says. 

Machvise places the bowl on his knees and stares at it as if there was a Poneglyph inside. -Mace your mouths, folks.- 

Trebol, leaning upon Lao G’s shoulder, pulls himself by his side. -Behehe, Dellinger, did you really bite…- 

-Not even if they pay me.- the boy cuts out. -I’m not a pervert, and it’d be an idiotic death. Also, if I castrated him, he’d not let me do his hair. I want to make you two ponytails. Would you like them?- 

Pica distractedly nods, eyes to the ungrateful bowl. They look like shards of marbles, rather than grains of rice. Baby 5’s stomach turns over, her face freezes. _Never refuse food, Baby Five_. 

Buffalo twists his mouth, Señor Pink shakes his head, Sugar simulates a puke. -I would kill all of you for a grape berry: I want you to know it.-

_Food is precious_, and Baby 5 will no longer be a mere mouth to feed. -Let me try.- she proclaims. There’s a wooden spoon, with a blunt tip, in the middle of the marble rice. She fills it to the tip and puts it in her mouth, eyes closed.

She opens her mouth all of a sudden: the grains of rice are needles, stinging at her palate and gums, as tasteless as cardboard and cold enough to burn. She covers up her own mouth before she can spit them out. She tilts her head back, stretches and clenches her cheeks. She swallows; the grains sting her throat, lungs, belly, and there they stay as heavy as lead. She brings her hands to her womb and bends over forward, pulling out her tongue like a dog. 

-Argh.- Eleven pairs of eyes are fixed on her. 

-Is it that gross?- Machvise asks. 

_Food is precious, Baby Five_. She removes her curls from her face and attempts a cold smile. -It’s edible.- 

-As in, filth.- Lao G proclaims. -Let’s knock it off, before all my teeth fall out.- 

He takes a spoonful of his own and sips it all down. He contorts his mouth, pulling his tongue out. -I could invent a new technique based off toothache. Grating Gums, with two nice “G”s.-

He hands the spoon to Pica, who gobbles up his spoonful as if the rice was potato mush. He holds the piece of cutlery between his thumb and index and stares at Diamante with a questioning glance.

-Gimme that.- the gladiator slurs. -I can do it.- 

The guards at the entrance laugh, covering their mouths. -I chan dho thisch!- the lighter one mocks him. Droplets of saliva, probably formed on purpose, rain on the snow. 

Pica places the spoon, between Diamante’s open hands. His quaking fingers barely clench around the handle before it slips off and rolls on his knees.

Diamante’s eyes widen. -Kyros.- he splutters. His fingers slip underneath the spoon, they tilt shakily. 

-Diamante…- Machvise attempts. 

-Shh.- 

The hand raises a palm, the spoon slips out and lands on the snow. Diamante pants, as if he had been running for thousands of meters. He slips his fingers underneath the handle, letting it slip between his thumb and index. This time, when the spoon falls, his hand has reached his ribs. 

-Diamante, I can help.- Baby 5 picks up the spoon in reddened fingers. Diamante turns his eyes at her, suddenly.

-Put it down. I can do this.- 

Baby 5 places the spoon in the snow and turns backwards, holding his breath. 

-Diamante, we’re also hungry.- Sugar yells. -Let us feed you and don’t bother.- 

-No! I can do this!- Diamante wipes his forehead and chin and curls upon the spoon again. He takes it in his palms, squishing it between them, and directs both hands on the plate. 

The spoon slips out and falls in between the rice soundlessly. 

-FUCK THIS!- 

Droplets of saliva splash out of his mouth, Machvise leans upon the bowl with his body. The break upon his uniform, ripping a whine from him.

-You see now?- Sugar shakes her head. -Be a good boy and let us feed you.- 

Diamante shakes his head. He brings his hands to his face, stroking his cheeks as if he didn’t recognize his own traits. He leans upon the wall, pushing his palms upon it, and drags his legs to the corner. There he curls up on the side, reclining his head on his arms. His brown hair fall upon his face, forearms and hands close upon it in a shell. 

-Ne?- Trebol calls. -Didi? Are you afraid of rice, ne?-

-I…- Diamante raises his head from the floor, running his arm on his eyes. -I’m not hungry anymore.- 

A long, deep growl raises from his stomach as he places his hand on the floor. 

Machvise takes the bowl from Pica’s lap and gobbles down his ration with a sigh. 

A bottom-full of rice, a bit more than Baby 5’s conjoined fists, lays at the bottom of the bowl. The frozen thing has been passed at least five times between all the present ones, but she is willing to bet that their shares do not surpass the one assigned to the Executive of Diamonds by a single grain.

-If hunger come back, all you gotta do is ask.- Señor Pink says placing the bowl by his side. Diamante curls up even closer on himself, shaky fingers sticking out from his filthy hair. 

-If he doesn’t want to be spoon-fed,- the darker guard says, -he can always stay on his fours as dogs do.- 

-Still here?- Jora asks. -Don’t you have a job?-

-We have orders.- the lighter guard says. -Sadi-chan wants one of you to play with.- 

Baby 5 tenses. The weights were in the shape of a cowbell, the size of a fist. -Ten kilos at a time. Let’s see how long it takes you to scream, weapon-woman. Mmmh.- Even closing her eyes, her smile chased after her. -That’ll rip my arms off!- she had screamed at the fifth weight. 

A hand slips into hers: Gladius. He blinks with foggy eyes, choking another sneeze in his arm. Jora stretches her own arm in front of Dellinger. Machvise gulps. Even Señor Pink barely opens his eyes. 

Pica shifts to his knees and leans his palm on the floor. Trebol shoots him a glance cold enough to make Baby 5 jump. -Ne, hold it right there. You can’t take another round.- 

“I can.” Pica mouths. “You are underestimating my strength. I’m stone, you know.- 

The guards at the entrance cover their mouths in chuckles. 

-What’s going on? Has Mr. Soprano stopped warbling?-

-No point in hiding it, everyone knows about your ridiculous falsetto. Maybe this time we’ll get a live concert.- 

Pica sits down, clenching his lips and fists. Trebol shakes his head. -You’re not stone, ne. You’re not stone as long as you carry those cuffs. You must rest, big guy: you’re one of the few who can fight without a Devil Fruit.- 

_Which he cannot. And they cannot wait forever, they could take out more than one of us if we make them lose their patience_. 

-I can go.- Baby 5 murmurs. -You need to rest.- 

-Stay there.- Gladius holds her hand tighter. -This isn’t the time for such foolishness anymore.- 

-Good, tell it how it’s meant to be, ne.- 

Trebol holds on to the bars, blows his nose in his fingers and wipes it on his legs. -Aaah, yeah. No more fuss, ne? I’m going.- 

-Are you sure?- Jora asks. 

-Ne, I’m the captain now: I have responsibility.- 

Not a single breath follows those words, and Baby 5 is not surprised. _Young Master is secluded at the sixth level, Diamante is weak and run down, Pica is… well, Pica. We can trust Trebol if Young Master was the first one to do so_. The lighter guard opens the cell, aiming his gun. Trebol drags himself to the way out. _We could just jump out and get this over with. There’s two against eleven, and we’re all trained warriors_. Yet Baby 5’s legs are as rigid as if they themselves were made of ice. Gladius shrugs, gently holding onto her wrist. In hell, sometimes what you don’t see hurts more. 

A metallic creak announces her that the door is locked again. The light guard pushes a Seastone collar on Trebol’s throat, pushes a prong of the same material on his thigh. 

-I’m moving, ne. I’m not a youngster anymore. Be patient, ne.- 

Trebol brings his palm to his mouth and sends a kiss to the corner where Diamante lays. -See you later, Diamante mine. Make so that he eats, behehe.- 

From his shell of arms and hair, a sigh escapes the ex-Executive’s lips. Skinny fingers raise and fold in a shaky farewell. 

Baby 5 stares at her own hand: she can’t see him dragged like that again. She wants for that walk of shame to be a far-off memory, maybe something to laugh about once outside of Hell – because there is an _outside of hell_ and it’ll be their new Young Master until they get back the old one. Trebol is hunched, beard and snot dangling above his feet at every step. The guards turn him over, they hold one arm each. 

-In a while, my dears. Behehe! _You can't take me, for a ride,_\- the Executive of Clubs sings -_’cause I'm no fool now, so you better run and hide. I’m Trebol, yeah Trebol now, I’m Trebol y’all, I got Trebol in my town._-

Baby 5 lets out a breath. As if Trebol had heard her – her, and someone else – and had known exactly what was needed. Dellinger chuckles, Machvise and Jora let out an applause. Curled up against the wall, Diamante sits up. There’s a puddle of drool next to his knee. He tangles his fingers in his hair and rips them from his neck brace. 

-Might as well eat. Still care to feed your Diamante? Mh?-

He has never sounded so cold, not even before murdering someone. Trebol and the guards have vanished already into the blinding white. _He’ll be fine_, Baby 5 reminds herself. She has to ask if someone knows the complete lyrics of that song.

One day her turn will come as well, to go back to those chambers with Sadi-Chan. Pica may not have screamed, but Baby 5 barely recognizes her granitic Executive in the fatigued gestures and tired eyes of the man in her cellar. _And he is undoubtedly stronger than I_. 

-I’m coming, dear. Now you too will eat.- Jora leans to the wall on Diamante’s side, slips to the ground, feeds him a spoonful of rice. The gladiator coughs it on himself. 

-If only this was good.-

-There’s special cutlery, for hands like yours.- Buffalo tries. 

-I know, but not here.- Diamante sighs. The second spoonful goes down his throat, but the man’s expression is a mask of disgust and drool. 

-Didn’t they marines spoon-feed you?- Gladius asks. 

-My hands were always-shh bound. At the walk, and in the ship. I prayed it was for that.- His mouth fills with saliva at every “S”.. -It was a matter of time. Who am I kidding?- 

He covers his mouth with his hands, not to spit out the third spoonful. -Kyros knew, I bet.- Diamante slobbers. -When I woke up, and I saw, I couldn’t even scream.- 

Jora smiles, frees his forehead of hair. Diamante swallows the fourth spoonful with a stoic expression on his face. 

-On the ship I was in such pain, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t speak. All I could do was cry.- He clenches his lips shut. -A Marine pulled out his gun and said that, if I wanted to, one shot was enough.-

The spoon trembles in Jora’s hand, the other hand holds onto his wrist. -Oh, sweet. We’d have missed you so.- 

The old woman’s glance leaps from Dellinger to Machvise, to Baby 5 herself. They know as much as she does that even now, all that’s needed is a word from Diamante for two hands the size of boulders to clench on his throat, nose and mouth to death. All that’s there to see is if Diamante will pronounce it.

-Yes. I could never want that.- he whispers. -But I was a star. They applauded me. They adored me. And now…-

He takes a deep breath, blinking, and contorts his face as if he had been punched to the gut. Baby 5 shuts her lips. 

Once, at the Colosseum, a Longer gladiator had pierced his shoulder with a spear. A well-aimed Vipera Glaive was enough to tear it to bits, but his expression on the screens was the same that now twists his lucid face. Baby 5 is ready to bet Diamante would rather live that lunge a thousand times than to be where he is now. 

The Executive of Diamonds raises his eyes to the ceiling, clenching his fists shut. Machvise takes his hand the moment he unfolds it, Baby 5 takes the other: it trembles, and it’s so sweaty it drips between the fingers. 

-It doesn’t matter now. A gladiator is a gladiator, even in rags. I will get myself a straw bejeweled in diamonds.- He chuckles at his own joke. -Dellinger can put on my makeup for me.-

-Or I can do it.- Baby 5 attempts. Diamante sneers at her. -If you want me to.- she attempts. 

-A proper gladiator may fall.- Diamante gabbles. Without the red stripes on his face – washed away with a sponge, as if he was a biological pit – the man is as pale as a corpse. -But they always… always get up. And I am the Hero of the Colosseum. What am I even saying?- 

He blinks, he dabs his sleeve on his chin. -I’m fine. It’s all over. You’re sweet.- 

-It was nothing.- Baby 5 smiles, and holds onto that sopping palm like a treasure.

Diamante pulls out his tongue, pressing a quaking hand on his stomach. The empty bowl lays by his side, even sadder than when it was brought to him.

-I’m still hungry. Filthy sch-schum.-

-We all are.- Lao G grumbles. -We can’t go on like this. It’ll grip us all, with the “G”.- 

His eyes are sunken underneath the wrinkles, to the point of vanishing into them, but Baby 5 can still read the panic into them. Buffalo nods, whining a shrieking “dasuyan” between the big incisors. Sugar trembles in Jora’s arms Dellinger bites his own nails. 

This is not good. Baby 5 removes her hair from her face, stands up on chilled ankles. _I’d give my Arms Arms away for a pair of shoes. A cup of tea. A cigarette_. Even Gladius raises his head from his arms to stare at her: she takes a deep breath, staring at everyone with foggy and pained eyes. She could eat the snow, could that nourish her. 

-Someone, a long time ago, had told me that when you’re hungry…-

_Stop pestering me, Baby Five. We’re not eating this evening. Find yourself something to do before I get the broom again, you useless ankle-biter_. 

-…you just need to stop thinking about it, and it will all vanish.- 

Silence. She sits back down with an “oh”, covering her red cheeks with her hands. I_ shouldn’t feel so _free_, not after what I have done_. 

Two fingers trace hers, land on her wrists. They squeeze them for a moment before slipping off. Diamante smiles again, and this time it’s sweet. -I see you’re progressing. It’s good to have you back, darling.- he slobbers out, and strokes her shoulders like a proud teacher. 

-She is right.- Baby 5 bites her own gum to chase off that accursed reddening. She turns to Gladius, who had taken the word. -Princess Scarlett had made such a mistake. But we are the Donquixiote Family.- 

Machvise rubs his fingers in his tangled beard. -Care to sing us something, Didi?-

Diamante stares at him as if he had stubbed his foot. -The name “Didi” is reserved to limited elected.- One elected, precisely. -But I don’t mind. Help me…-

An arm as thick as a mainmast wraps itself around the gladiator’s waist and lifts him up like a feather on his shaky legs. He holds his hand all the way down the steps, where he leads him to sit. 

-Thanks, pebbles. You’re a dearie.- 

Diamante lets his legs fall down the stone step, uses Pica’s arm as a back support, a tight smile on lips as thin as ever without their usual lipstick. A droplet of sweat runs down his nose. 

-_Every time that I look in the mirror, all these lines on my face getting clearer_.-

How does he sound so sweet, even slobbering and drooling, is a mystery for her as it seems to be for them all. -_The past is gone, it went by like dusk to dawn._\- He swings his shoulders, he tilts his shaking hands as if to play an imaginary guitar, pulls out his tongue towards an audience that isn’t there. _He really is a diamond: unbreakable_. 

-_Isn’t that the way,_\- Machvise has started singing too, and Jora, and Buffalo, and Lao G. -_Everybody’s got their dues in life to pay_.-

Baby 5 sits next to Señor Pink and swings her arms side by side. She must have heard that song so many times, she could write down the lyrics on the walls of the cell. Maybe it was Diamante himself the first to sing it. A bit after Law’s disappearance, during a night like many. She doesn’t know how old she was back then: she only knows she wanted mama, and that Diamante was cradling her with arms as firm, as if he had never done anything else all his life. 

_-Dream on!_\- She had never realized how good they all sounded together. -_Dream on! Dream on! And dream until your dream comes true!_\- Dellinger raises his indexes and shakes them back and forth. Pica snaps in time, mouthing the lyrics without a sound. Sugar leans her head on her fists, laying on her belly. If Trebol and Young Master were also here it’d all be perfect, but even an almost is enough in Impel Down. -_Sing with me, if it's just for today, maybe tomorrow the good Lord will take you away!_-

They clap, while Diamante plays one last shaky riff on his nonexistent giutar. Now he’s sweating even from his hair, but Baby 5 had sorely missed that wide, flat smile.

-Be quiet now, assholes! There’s people who want to sleep!- someone yells from the next fell.

Gladius brings his hands to his mouth. -Cover your ears, loser! We’re the Donquixiote Family and we do whatever the fuck we want!-

Baby 5 smiles, or rather grins. -Another round?-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Trebol's song is Trouble by P!nk, with modified lyrics. Diamante's is Dream On again.  
2\. Don't let me picture Diamante without lipstick.  
3\. Baby 5's story is an expansion on canon.  
4\. I followed the suggestion by Harmonica_Smile [https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rescue_Remedy/pseuds/Harmonica_Smile/works?fandom_id=10767&page=2] on how to display Diamante's speech impediment. Yet again, thanks a lot. It feels smoother this way.  
See you to the next chapter... with a surprise.


	4. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trebol returns, for better or worse. Diamante treasures every moment spent with him. Baby 5 must make a promise.

Two more rounds. And three, and four. At the fifth Diamante is tired of drooling all over himself while he’s singing: Jora and Dellinger step forward, with a hours-worthy repertoire of theatre ballads. It’s Jora again who plugs Dellinger’s ears when Machvise pulls out the worst bar chants he knows. Buffalo and Baby 5 chuckle like children. _They_ know those very well. 

When everyone – except Pica, who mouths all the songs without ever speaking – have had their round, even their cell neighbor has stopped swearing. Baby 5 breathes in the chilly air, applauds with hands she can’t feel anymore. Her feet are red, and they stick out on the azure stone like blood on the snow. 

-I’d say we had fun.- Lao G declares. -Young Master would be proud of us.-

_Does he know I switched sides? _Baby 5 covers her mouth with her hands and puffs on them. She had been singing with them since she and Buffalo have sat at their table for the first time. Every new go is as good as the first. She hasn’t even heard Sai sing. Maybe it’s better this way: his voice was not pleasant. Nor was he particularly handsome, nor courteous in his ways. An excellent warrior, without a doubt and no need to ask Lao G: but she too is a fighter, since she’s been a child, and hadn’t she turned her cloak maybe…

-Pebbles?- Diamante waves his trembling hand. -Care to help me get up? I can’t have my beauty sleep on the steps.- 

As quiet as a Pacifista, Pica offers his humongous arm to the older man and watches him walk to the corner on which he laid down before eating. He wipes his sweat with his arm and lays on his back, reclining his elbows underneath the neck brace. 

-When are you getting that contraption off?- Machvise asks. 

-I have to wear it for two months.- Diamante slobbers. -I don’t know how much it is, down here. It itches like a whole anthill. I had a special mattres-sch on the ship, but here…-

He emits a disgusted noise, a “pttsch” accompanied by a puff of saliva that falls back on his face. He wipes himself with a wrist gesture. -Mmh. Do not disturb me.-

He shuts his eyes, lets his mouth fall open. _Maybe he isn’t sleeping_, Baby 5 thinks. _Maybe he just wants to reflect, and he needs it_. Diamante bowed as if he was feeding on the applause, crowned in petals, twirling on heels too high even for her and waving the folds of his cape about like a pair of wings. And now he needs an arm to get up. She hopes that in his dreams at least, his fate befits him. 

-Now, Pica.- Dellinger pulls himself behind the colossus sitting on the steps, stretches his fingers as if he was ready to fight. -Stay comfy. I must split your hair for the pigtails.-

-You said you’d have done mine too.- Baby 5 exclaims, louder than planned. The two man turn around all of a sudden, and the young Fishman rubs his index on his chin.

-Mind waiting a while, big guy?-

A nod, and Pica stands up with clenched fists, A drop of blood runs down his wrist. 

-I’m sorry.- Baby 5 says. -A wound has reopened, there on the palm.-

“Look at this”, Pica’s lips spell out. Baby 5 accustoms herself to the step and massages her frozen arms. 

-How can you move your fingers with such cold?-

Dellinger runs them through her hair, from the skull to the tip. -My warrior spirit is leading my gestures. You too have beautiful hair, and I know them well. What’d you want, kyaah?-

-I’ll let you choose.- Baby 5 stares at her own knees in embarrassment. It’s all way too easy, too familiar. As if they’d all forgotten. 

-This calls for a nice high ponytail. That way you can sleep comfortably, and you’ll keep the environment in check.- 

He was there, he has seen. Maybe it’s all a big joke at her expense, and they’ll make her pay at any moment now. 

-Or I could also make you a braid chignon. Then I’ll do one to Buffalo and Gladius as well, so that the Commando Army is coordinated. Too bad Gladius doesn’t have hair.-   
-Dellinger.- Baby 5 whispers. -Why aren’t you angry at me?- 

The boy lets go of the strands. -For what, for that trifle with the gladiator? Nobody is angry at this. Have we given signs of being so?- 

-…Pica almost crushed me.- It’s an uncertain murmur, as if not even she was sure of what she had said. Dellinger chuckles. 

-Are you surprised? You’ve been fighting by his side since before I was born. Pica is like this. Buffalo told me that when he was a child, he had tortured him almost to death for a laugh, kyaah.- 

-I was there, when it happened.- And they had laughed about it, Buffalo first and foremost. Maybe she should indeed hate Pica, for the nice trick of the stone grinder. Had he only given her the time to explain herself…

_But explain what?_ Baby 5 holds her hands on her belly. She doesn’t even know where the Happo Navy is from. But she did know what to do when Buffalo, chained in front of her, had explained to her why that too long already walk had been interrupted, and where the laughter she heard from tens of meters of distance was coming from. 

_He fell. No, he’s not getting up. Maybe he hit his head. It seems as if he’s crying, but I don’t believe it. I mean, have you ever seen him cry? Diamante is talking to him, maybe he can push him up. Everyone’s laughing, they’re throwing stuff at him even now he’s on the ground. It’s not nice, dasuyan._

-Exactly.- Dellinger squeezes her shoulder. -He probably isn’t thinking about it anymore. If we started infighting, we’d play at the game of those who made us walk.- 

Baby 5 sees herself in chains, as the Marines that are holding her rip pieces of her off her. _Not my apron, I’ve had it since I was a child. The shoes are a gift from Dellinger, you can’t! _They stripped them not only to humiliate them better, but to cancel every trace of Donquixiote _Family_ off of them too. _I’d make you walk naked_, the Marine that was cuffing her feet had said. _Just be thankful I don’t wanna be kicked out_. Yet, with her maid dress reduced to a red rag like many others, Baby 5 hadn’t felt any less bare. 

-It’s good to be back.- she murmurs. Dellinger wraps his arm around her shoulder. His horn brushes against her nape as he rubs his cheek on hers. 

-So? For the ponyt…-

His voice chokes in his throat, and he quickly shifts to Baby 5’s side. He points at the bars. 

At first she doesn’t recognize the female figure advancing towards them, two guards in the right and one on the left. Two honey-blonde ponytails dangle on her chest at every step, fresh snow has accumulated itself on her slender sides and it sticks out more than ever on the black of her soft jacket. It’s when the girl stops that Baby 5 sees the pink horns, and her skin tenses on her in fear. 

Sugar raises her eyes from the floor. Jora moves close to Dellinger and opens her arm in front od him. Even Pica retreats against the wall, and his clenched fists tremble. Baby 5 searches for the whip on her sides. She doesn’t see it. She doesn’t like it. 

The torturer steps forward. -We have an unpleasant announcement.- 

-Is it dinner time yet?- Machvise yawns. 

Sadi-chan lowers her hood. -A regrettable event has occurred.-

She looks down, as if she was ashamed. _Maybe she has a twin_, Baby 5 surprises herself in thinking; but there’s blood on those candid hands. Sadi-chan stretches her back. 

-Your cellmate, Donquixiote Trevor…-

-Trebol!- Diamante steps on his feet, skinny legs shaking, sputtering on the frozen stone. -His name is Trebol! What did you do to him?- 

Sadi-chan takes a deep breath. 

-Donquixiote Trebol was subjected to the torture of flames. After ten minutes something caught fire- she gulps, _-within him_. A dense mucous component.- 

She pants out the words with fatigue, as if her tongue wasn’t responding. Baby 5 brings her hands to her temples. Her stomach sinks, as heavy as the jail itself. 

-It’s not possible.- Gladius steps forward, shaking, eyes lucid from flu. -The Seastone…- 

-…annuls the powers of Devil Fruits, but his Stick Stick must have been compromising him for years. Prolonged exposition to the flames have made his conditions worse. In short, he had mucus up to the lungs. The cauldron did him no good, but the flames were the final blow. Nothing can be done. He has but a few minutes left.- 

She speaks in a low voice, as if she was ashamed of what she’s saying. A torturer that kills his victims is not a capable torturer, and Sadi-chan was to be the queen of the sector. But Young Master too was the king of Dressrosa, and Riku Dold III was before him. Kings fall. Baby 5 strokes her own face: she doesn’t feel her fingers. _Trebol is dying_, her lips mouth. 

-You have- Lao G’s deep voice give her chills, -murdered him.- 

-It’s been an unfortunate accident.- Sadi-chan repeats. -We consider ourselves professionals at Impel Down. Our torturers are finely crafted to keep every convict alive up to the end of the penance.- 

If she’s saying something more, Baby 5 doesn’t hear it. She hugs herself, holds her breath. Her eyes pulsate and burn, as if her head had been submerged in acid. Trebol was _there_, he had always been there, as long as Baby 5 can remember of her family. He was giddily singing outside their cell just a moment ago. 

-Can we see him?- Jora’s voice is choked. 

-He’s not a pretty display.- the first guard on the right attempts. Sugar stands up, clenching her small fists. Her teeth are also clenched, and her eyelids frantically blinks. 

-He has never been. And now bring him here. All that’s left is for him to die on his own, like a street rat.- 

At one head gesture of Sadi-chan, the guards walk away towards the snowy field. 

_It can’t be true_. Baby 5’s legs are rigid as she stands up. Dellinger gets up one moment later and gives Jora his hand. Machvise and Señor Pink get up, and the latter offers his arm to Lao G. Gladius gets up with his head low. Buffalo gets up, calling her to him with a gestire. Pica gets up, shaking knees and arms wrapped around his chest, and kneels next to Diamante and Sugar as if his battered back was carrying the weight of the world itself. 

The guards carry Trebol on a stretcher, laying on his back. His prisoner uniform is blackened on the chest and belly, his filthy hair and arms completely cover his face. _Not even the time for a farewell_, Baby 5 thinks – but his meagre body shakes the moment the stretcher is placed in the ground, and his bony hands raises to wipe the blood off his mouth. 

-Piss off.- Even his voice sounds faint, distorted, as if he was screaming from the bottom of the ocean. -Ne, I want to – _cough, cough_ – stay on my own with my family.- 

-We have orders.- the first guard on the left of Sadi-chan says.- 

Sugar punches the bars in front of herself. -You know where you can put them!-

-Now, now. _Cough_. Don’t be rude, ne. It’s not that big a deal, behehehe.- 

Even his laugh, gurgling and choked, isn’t _his_ to the core. His smile, however, is the smile of Trebol: mocking, uncaring, confident to the end.

-Here I am. Just in time – _cough_ – for a nice farewell.- 

The snot on his nose is red, his teeth pink, his cheeks glowing and milky. His thick lips contort in a fatigued smile, surrounded by a flabby and humid beard. 

-Ne, what are those faces? It’s not you – _cough_ – the ones reduced to this. Just look at yourself, what you are.- 

_Trebol will die a Trebol_. Baby 5 quickly wipes her first tears, kneeling next to Buffalo. She slips her hand in his friend’s: it vanishes into it, and it’s warm enough to shake her up. She runs her sleeve underneath her nostrils, followed by Gladius and Lao G. 

-Ne! I already see runny noses aplenty. Good, good. Carry on my tradition, behe – _cough_ – he.-

-How could… could you?

Diamante collapses agains the bars, grapples on it with his elbows when his hands fall apart. The right sticks out from the bars, clings to Trebol’s like to a shroud in the middle of a storm. His back jolts in between the sobs. 

-You can’t leave me!- He pants, opening his mouth. -Not here!- 

Trebol strokes his hair with his free hand. -My diamond… you can’t stop the inevitable, ne.- 

-Why didn’t you tell them?- 

-Nee, I didn’t know either. Eh… one gotta know oneself.- 

He chuckles, and Diamante averts his gaze from his face. -And now… what do I do?- 

Trebol covers his mouth with his hand, he coughs out a glob of blood with a throaty, raspy sound. He drops his hand on the stone without a sound. 

-They’re yours, Diamante. Ne, treat them well. Tell Young Master I’m so sorry.- 

Diamante nods. He brings Trebol’s bloodied hands to his lips and prints a kiss on his fingers. 

-Ne, you’re so schmaltzy. Rockstars, all the same. Behehe. You’ll look bad with your son here.-

He sits up, hugging the bars, and a stream of blood fills his mouth. -Pica.- he whispers between his teeth. -Ne, you’ve grown.- 

Trebol’s index lifts Pica’s chin, his hand runs down and strokes his neck, at the point of his vocal cords. Pica clenches his teeth, as if those fingers were knives. 

-Be proud, child. Nee…-

_Speak, now at least, tell him what you want him to know_: but the warrior shakes his head and holds his hand in the one that touched him, as if to indicate to close the matter. Trebol averts his eyes, gives Sugar a toothless grin. 

-You’ll be happy, ne. I’m finally kicking the bucket.- 

-FUCK YOU!- Sugar punches the frozen stone. -You were to die when I said so.- 

-Ne, don’t cry for me, chit. I won’t Trebol you no more. I’m off to badmouth you with your sis’.- 

Sugar covers her face with her hands. -Go fuck yourself! I hate you!.- she sobs.-

Trebol pulls out his tongue. Baby 5 whimpers against her own fingers as the man asks Jora to prepare him a funeral monument worthy of him (“I want real snot on my nostrils, behehe”), enjoys himself one last hug from Machvise, pinches Buffalo’s humid cheek and compliments himself with Lao G for having held longer than him. 

-Longer. With the “G”.- the other murmurs, stretching his beck like a marine admiral. 

-Fuck you.- Sugar repeats in her own arms. -Float well, Trebolsome.- 

-Behehe, what a cutie.- Trebol chuckles out bloody mucus. -Ne, see? He gets it. You too, don’t make those sad faces. Behehehe, you gotta show it – _cough_ – to those assholes.- 

-Such is how a man faces death.- Señor Pink proclaims. Trebol shakes his head, wipes his tears with the tip of his index. -Behehehe. You still care ‘bout this noise? Ne, face it as you want to, as long as you don’t become – _cough_ – depressed.- 

He curves on his side, cough more, again and again. The fingers of the left clench to Diamante’s. The right shakes in the emptiness, until Pica takes it into his. 

-Baby- another cough, slicker than the others -5.- 

She tenses, stretching her arm as if one of Young Master’s strings was pulling at her. She doesn’t want to know what he’ll tell her. She only has one chance of finding out, and it’s not sure if she’ll like it. 

-I’m here, Trebol. Breathe. We’re all here.- 

-I know, behehe.- Trebol rolls his eyes and stares at her. -I could be your umpteenth dead hubby. The floods would have already opened.- 

Baby 5 contorts her lips. She doesn’t talk about it: she doesn’t even think about it, not with Trebol spitting blood at her feet. -It’s all fine.- she repeats atonally. 

-Fuck it. Fuck you. You shouldn’t have done it.- Sugar sobs. 

-Nee, thank the heavens I said no. Not everybody is this good. And luckily neither are you. Behehehe, be good. Don’t disappoint.- 

Baby 5’s tears collect up on Trebol’s stretched hands. With clenched teeth, shaking in place, she smiles at him. -I promise.-

_Trebol is a Donquixiote Executive_: not hers, but he’ll get the respect he deserves from her. She stretches her back, looks into his eyes. Gladius holds her hand. 

-It’ll be fine. Farewell, Trebol. We’ll tell Young Master you fought.- 

-_Cough, cough_. He must know already. Nee, come here. Don’t leave. It’s so _hot_.- 

Trebol raises his eyes to the ceiling, glowing in tears. Lao G, Señor Pink and Machvise hold onto one another. Diamante tightens the hold on the hand he holds. Sugar sinks her fingers in her hair.

-Behe.. cough, cough.- Blood springs from his mouth, from the nostrils alongside mucus, fills up on his chest in a brown and lucid sludge. -Behehe…- a vermillion tent covers his chin, gets tangled in his unkempt beard. His fingers loosen from Diamante’s and Pica’s. His coughs sound like war drums. 

-Trebol.- Sugar whispers. -Wait…- 

-Behe… heeh.- 

-Tre… Trebol.- Diamante’s voice is hoarse, his shaky fingers open and close. Trebol opens his mouth in a shrinking “neeeh”. His hands slip off those of the other two High Executives, land in the snow with a huff. 

_His last laugh: we should remember him like this. _

-Trebol.- 

Gladius stretches his arm through the bars and closes the Club Executive’s eyes, his left fist clenched between his teeth. Dellinger throws himself in Jora’s arms and sinks his face into her chest. Señor Pink has a hand on his mouth. 

-Farewell, old pal. Stay out of Trebol.- Machvise covers his eyes with his hands. Sugar punches the ground. Buffalo subs into his arms, curled up to the wall. Lao G reclines his forehead on the clenched fists, tightening even more as he turns to Diamante. 

-Leave the place, child. He’s no more. You must be resilient.- 

-Tre…- Diamante whines. He leans his forehead on the bars, opening his mouth in a scream that doesn’t come up. Tears fall down his face, they vanish into the snow next to his knees. Pica places a hand on his shoulder; the other lays on his throat, where Trebol had touched him. He emits a choked-up scream and clings to the bars to stand up. He walks to the wall with his head low and curls up against it, reclining his forehead on the crossed arms. 

-TRE!- Diamante screams this time, and rips his hair from the wet cheeks. He pulls himself halfway, falls back to his shaking knees. Sugar chokes a shout on her open hands. 

The world is blurry, silent, white. Baby 5 must remind herself what to look at and listen to. -We’ll lay him in the sea, as we do to pirates.- a voice she doesn’t recognize proclaims. Something slick drips down her face. She wipes her nose, smiling in the pain. 

-Diamante, you must come back!- Buffalo sobs, shifting to the man on his knees. 

Diamante wraps his long arms around his shoulders, throws himself face-first into his belly. -Tre!- he shrieks. -Tre! Don’t leavheee!- 

Buffalo picks Diamante in his arms like a puppet and leads him away from the bars. His face is as red as the makeup he once wore, his chin lucid in snot and drool. He sobs into Buffalo’s shirt, pulling his face into the fabric. He raises his eyes to the bars: Sadi-chan and the guards – _and Trebol_ – are gone. 

-Nooooo! Trebol! Trebol!- 

-I’m here. I’m with you. Listen to me, dasuyan.- 

Diamante slobbers out something that’s supposed to be a “nooo”. His nose drips, and Baby 5 can’t look at it. _It’s the pain speaking: you do not reason when you lose the one you love_. She could have murdered Young Master, in his place – for little crushes not worth half of Trebol. 

_He’d not have married me. Not even he was so _shameless_ – and he and Diamante were in love_. She leans her left hand on the man’s back, rubbing it from top to bottom. With the right she wipes her eyes at every new touch. 

-Shh.- she says, but it sounds hollow. _What do you tell someone who lost what he most adores? _She doesn’t pant, nor moves her lips, and strokes Diamante’s dirty hair with repetitive gestures. -Shh, shh.- Her tears burn on her frozen cheeks and fingers. 

-Trebol.- Diamante slobbers. -Tre… _hah hah_… Trebol.- 

Buffalo sits him down, Machvise holds him half seated. Lao G and Señor Pink walk close in slow steps. They probably don’t recognize him, Executive or not. His eyes are blocked open, his face is tense. On a stage, he’d be pitiful. 

-Diamante, breathe. You’ll break that neck again.- Pink attempts. 

-Go back to sleep.- Baby 5 shoots a desperate glance to the corner of the cell, but Pica is as still as boulder in his shell of arms and loose hair. -Lay down and close your eyes. We’ll watch over you.- 

-I don’t wanna…- Diamante pants. -Don't wanna close my eyes. I don't wanna fall asleep. I’d miss him, Baby.- His eyes roll, his hands contact around Machvise’s throat. His face is wet: Baby 5 doesn’t know if it’s tears, sweat or drool, but she wipes it with her sleeve as if he had been a silver jewel.- 

-IT’S FOR SCARLETT, EH?- the gladiator screams at the ceiling. -YOU DID IT ON PURPOSE! YOU WANTED ME TO PAY AND YOU TOOK HIM!- 

-Shut him up!- they scream from a far-off cell. 

-Knock him down! Gag him!- someone screams closer. -We feel like shit already without this obnoxious noise!-

-No more, Diamante. Stop this. Be strong.- Machvise prays. -Do it for us. For Pica. For you.- 

_The Donquixiote Family had five pillars_. For Vergo they had sobbed all evening, side by side in the balcony, and never had Diamante’s arms been so welcoming for her. For Monet… Baby 5 must have been passed out, as her memories stop in the lunchroom and begin again in her bedroom, underneath the blankets, her head on fire and her eyes red. Pica had locked himself in his rooms up to the next morning, and Sugar hadn’t spoken for a week.

Diamante takes a deep breath, blinking, reddened eyes bouncing between one’s glance and the other. As if he had forgotten who and where he is. 

-Come here.- Machvise repeats, and the Executive of Diamonds lets himself fall into his arms without a breath. 

She doesn’t know how much it has passed, when he falls asleep. They cradle him in turns – she, Buffalo and three quarters of the Combat Army. Dellinger holds onto Jora’s arms, trembling. The old lady has red eyes, and whispers soothing words in the boy’s ears. Gladius strokes Sugar’s hair, curled up in his arms as still as a doll. Pica stays bundled in his corner, and not a quiver shakes his massive body. 

_The Donquixiote Family had five pillars. Two are left, and not long will we last this way. _They lay Diamante down on the stones, Machvise holding his head up to keep his poor neck from tilting. Baby 5 tries his forehead: it’s burning. 

-I’ll look after him.- Lao G whispers. -Go to sleep, child. You deserve this.- 

That night – or that day, in the timeless hell they’re in – Baby 5 forgets to dream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trebol, pass me the term, is the glue that holds the family together. If Vergo was just a friend of Doffy that he brought with him, and Diamante and Pica had come later (despite the former having started raising the latter from before Doffy had left Mary Geoise), Trebol was the very first member of the family.   
But he was no fit character to be developed, and I did what was to be done. Such is the end of his adventure among the living.   
1\. Yes, I did the obvious Aerosmith joke.   
3\. Lao G not pointing out the "G" in "Go to sleep, child" is intentional. A display of his pain.   
3\. Trebol's last words are "behehehe, ne". Couldn't have been anything else.   
4\. Sugar will have to think twice before wishing death to one now.   
5\. Diamante's beloved is dead, and his child is suffering in humiliation. I wonder what other character went through that.   
7\. An actual English translation One Piece, from the website Mangapanda, tdoes actually translate Trebol's name as "Trevor". It also includes gems such as "Peeka" – farewell to the "playing cards" theme – and "Kouros".


	5. Sisters, Sons, Fathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sugar is proud, Diamante holds on to a thread, Pica hides a secret in his palms

-What’s with all the snot?- 

The girl has her hands to her thighs and a disappointed, class president-like expression. The man stares at her from top to bottom, a toothless grin in his wide, purple lips. Two drops of green snot dangle in front of his lips, at a nail of distance from his unkempt black beard. 

-Ne, there’s no reason. I like it this way. It represents me.- 

The girl raises one eyebrow. She has no idea what it’s supposed to represent, and just looking at it gives her nausea. -It’s rude. You should blow your nose.- 

-Ne, who says that? You? Nee.- The man pulls put his tongue. -Behehehe: you still gotta’lot to learn, on how to be in the world. If you gotta be part of this family, you better learn how to behave.- 

His face is almost stuck to the girl’s, that horrid snot dangles to the point of grazing her skin. She chills in disgust. -How do I have to behave?- she whispers. The man stands up in a rush, dripping more snot from his palms and clothes. He looks like a blue slug, big enough to squish her. But it’s just a bony hand, nails covered in cuts and dents, pinching her cheeks to the point of pain.

-However you please, ne. The only valid answer.- 

And he slithers to the back cabin, with a persistent slushy sound, as his “behehehe” loses itself in the wind alongside the cries of the seagulls. 

Baby 5’s eyes are aflame, as if her face had been submerged in a bucket of salt, and her cheeks feel plastic. The guards slam the sack against the bars, and the one without the sunglasses tosses a block of wood at her feet. 

-What is it, pretty lady? Are you cold?-

They’re not the same at the other day. They both have light cheeks, reddened by the cold, and their lips are covered by the neck of the uniform. Yet the whistle they both emit sounds loud and clear. 

-Come get warm with us.- 

Baby 5 blinks. Maybe these people need her: it’d be so amazing if it happened again. Before she can say a thing, Buffalo’s hand clings to her arm. 

-You’re superfluous, dasuyan.- He gives her a sideways glance, hostile for one like him. -Baby 5 is not a piece of meat. You have to earn being by her side.- 

-We’re gonna get her at the end. There’s not many girls in this jail, and Sadi-chan is tired of always hearing the same screams.- The guard tosses another piece of wood – it’s not wood, Baby 5 realizes rubbing her eyes, it’s frozen bread – straight on Pica’s head. The colossus, curled up in the corner he had placed himself into after Trebol’s passing, raises his eyes form his arms. 

-Didya’hear? She’ll make you scream, sooner or later. A nice chunk of leggero-castrato like you is the dream of her lifetime. Keep the throat warm, mmkay?- 

Pica stares at them in disgust and clenches his chapped lips. He doesn’t stand up. Doesn’t even lift his arms. It’s as if he had been submerged neck-deep in seawater. 

-Do you think that thing can speak?- the man with the glasses asks. 

-He probably forgot how to do it. After that blow to the head at the walk…- he raises his hand and lowers it all of a sudden, with a whistle. -Down, all the way. He probably went dumb.- 

-Imagine the scream. Imagine how bored they are now, without the comedy relief.- 

-Hey, Mr. Soprano, how ‘bout a staring competition? Last one to laugh wins. Wait, not that: you’d win before it starts.- 

They chuckle and point at him, holding their bellies with the other hand. Baby 5 instinctively covers her eyes, but not a stone shifts from its place. No one, at Dressrosa like at Spider Miles, would have dared to say such a thing without suicidal intentions. A vein pulsates on Pica’s forehead, his fists quiver, his teeth crackle between his jaws. 

-You take too many liberties.- Buffalo exclaims. -Wait for us to take off these cuffs, and my Officer squishes you with one finger, dasuyan.- 

-Come on, forget them.- Gladius intervenes. -How do you feel? You’ve been still for…-

“Awful. Like you all. I want to be alone, go away.” A stream of blood runs down his left hand, from the gap between his middle and index finger. 

-You have another open wound. On the right, see?- Gladius insists. 

“I have high pressure” Pica huffs soundlessly. “Those assholes didn’t cauterize me.”

-High pressure?- Sugar hisses. -With this bloody cold?- 

“I said I want to be alone. Leave me be.” He lowers his head on his arms again, hair falling onto them. He has torn Dellinger’s chignon and plaits at some point, and without even the helm to give them shape, the long lilac strands look as thick and heavy as coarse fabric. 

If the young boy is offended by the assault on his own creation, he doesn’t show it. He grabs at hand the frozen bread and lays it by his side. -Can I do anything to cheer up my Officer?- 

Diamante takes a deep breath, rubbing his sleeve on his bleary eyes. -You’re an angel, Dellinger. It’ll fade. I gotta let it fade…-

He wipes his drool in small gestures, as if he was afraid to hurt himself further. He’s as pale as the snow behind the bars, his hands are shaken by incessant trembling. He stretches his arms to grasp his ration, but the frozen bread slips off his fingers and bounces next to his feet. If the guards’ laughter offend him, he doesn’t show. 

Baby 5 waits for the two strangers to walk off before grasping her own share. The bread is so cold her fingers hurt, freezing water drips down her elbow as she holds onto it. Her stomach roars, so empty it touches her back. 

_Food is precious, Baby Five_. She bites into the humid crust with all her might, until her incisors burn in cold and pain. 

-Aghh!- 

She falls to her knees, spitting out something cold and smugly on the stone. Bread falls off his hands and slips down until it slams onto the bars. 

-I’m starting to miss yesterday’s rice.- Buffalo sighs, but Baby 5 can barely hear him. An open hand – huge, dark, familiar – helps her up. 

-You dropped this. Do you still want to eat it_-dasuyan_?-

Baby 5 blurbs out a yes. She hugs the loaf to her chest, despite the freezing cold: her hands shake so much she can’t hold it anymore. 

They curl up on the steps next to Diamante, leaning his back on the wall. Droplets of sweat slip from underneath the neckbrace. The Combat Squadron, the cut in half Special Powers Squadron, the commander-less Commando Squadron, sits around him like little sheep around their sheepherd. He smiles with what looks like titanic fatigue.

-I am so ashamed,- he murmurs, -for yesterday’s crisis. I’ll be…-

All those “S” are choking him. Diamante rips the drool off his chin with swift gestures, as if he was lacerating his own flesh. -I’ll be the commander you need.- 

His knees shake, his lungs seem to want to pierce his chest. Baby 5 lowers her gaze to the bread in her hands. 

-Come on, Diamante. Lay here. Lean your head on my knees.- 

-Now it’s I…- Diamante doesn’t seem to have heard Machvise’s words. He pulls his head back, in the limits allowed to him by the neckbrace. -The commander. I don’t want to fail. I don’t…- 

He tenses, when Machvise’s hand strokes his forehead. The fighter clenches his teeth, pulling his arm back. -Diamante, you’re an oven. Lay down.- 

-Oh… yes, yes.- 

Jora leads the man to sit down and strokes his forehead as if he was little Dellinger. Lao G picks up a piece of frozen bread – the crumb is a pulp, but soft enough to be swallowed – and places it into his mouth. 

-My poor Officer was a man of character. No surprise you liked him so much.- Jora retorts. Diamante smiles, gaze lost in the ceiling. 

-Trebol…- there’s a sob, buried in that chewed-up line. -Trebol saved us. Pica and I lived in the streets, before. When the World Nobles came by, looking for slaves we’d hold on for a week, without eating, hidden in our hole. -Princess Scarlett did not make it for three. She got what was coming to her.-

-You should have killed her daughter too,- Señor Pink proclaims. -Some parents don't deserve to be.-

-I broke other bones in the past.- Diamante gasps with a whisper. He pushes another piece of bread down his throat with his tongue. -We had to fend for ourselves, back then. If you had ... had seen what a delightful child Pica was, you wouldn’t have been able to say no.-

Baby 5 imagines a square-shaped child, small furious eyes and frowning brows in a grumpy scowl. "Delicious" is not a word that would describe him. Diamante is rambling, she makes herself think. Maybe it's just a parent thing.

She clenches her lips. _Nobody needs useless people_. She doesn't know anything about parents and doesn't pretend to know. Diamante smiles, ecstatic.

-Trebol was good at hiding too. I met him when I was twelve. He already had chains on his feet, you know?-

Baby 5 turns pale. She cannot, nor does she want to think it. Even if it happened, she repeats to herself, her glance on the ground away from Diamante's shiny eyes, it has been many years ago. She was not born yet back then, and very few men in the world have been freer than the Trebol she has known.

-In all truth, I don't know why he wore them.-

It's Sugar's voice, as cold as the walls around them. Lao G and Jora spread like to let her pass through. The woman-girl's nose is sharp, her eyes are red, and she tightens her arms as if she didn't recognize familiar faces.

-But he said one thing about it. The night you took my sister and me away.-

Monet had a black eye, hastily covered by a handful of yellowish foundation. She lacked a canine and two molars, but her voice had been clear. -Don't drink! Arsenic!-

The landlord had slapped her to the ground, kicking her under the table while Young Master and family were spitting out the wine in their mouth. “You’ll never see your sister again!", The leader of the workers had growled. He had kicked her at least three times on the chest before the strings had tightened. _Please_ \- Monet was crying, blood was streaming down her chin – _please, I have a little sister, they keep her locked up in the closet, you have to help us, we have nowhere to go, mom and dad committed suicide after my sister was born, they make me work and beat us, please, please, please_.

-Ne, you are free.- Monet had held Sugar to her chest, staring at Trebol in horror. -You’re free, and you’ll always be free. You have more balls than those bastards there, behehehe. If they wanted slaves, they have bought them. This is just pitiful, ne.-

Baby 5 was seven at the time, but she looked like a full made woman compared to the pile of bones that was not yet called Sugar. -We are free, sugarcubes,- Monet had sobbed, and Baby 5 had not dared to come forward, not even for a caress. _At least_, she had thought, _I had a mother_.

-He told us to look at them.- Sugar straightens his back. -And always remember the only chains he will ever wear. Shattered. Linked to n-nothing.-

She clenches the small punches to the uniform, wrinkled around the too small body. She sniffs again. -I’m proud of having been part of the Trebol Army. I must have told him a thousand times to die, and he did it just when I didn't want to. Trebol was free. He died this way too.-

Her lip trembles in uttering those words. Sugar rushes into Jora's arms and throws herself into her sagging breasts as if she really was ten years old.

When she lifts her head, her cheeks have a slight glow.

-Now relax, Diamante. You have to care for yourself, you know. Or you’ll end up leaving us too.-

-Don’t you dare say it, not the mere idea .- Dellinger raises his fist, widening his eyes as Fighting Fish do. -They took Trebol already. We have to find a way to leave.-

-But how? If there was one, wouldn't we have found it already? -

When Gladius goes quiet, nobody answers. Ten bowed looks surround his. Only Diamante's gasps, and the subdued noise of twelve chewing jaws, break the heavy silence.

They all go to sleep together, in a silent agreement that is more than fine for Baby 5.

They both have light cheeks, reddened by the cold, and their lips are covered by the neck of the uniform. Yet the whistle they both emit sounds loud and clear. 

-Come get warm with us.- 

Baby 5 stands up and twirls through the bars like a shadow. She reaches out to one of the two, chuckling, as red as a tomato at its nostalgic warmth. Buffalo screams her name, and so does Gladius, and all the others at once, in a discordant cacophony that no longer resembles her name. The handcuffs bounce on the snow, clinking.

The snow melts off the walls, dripping across the floor. “I am needed by them," Baby 5 think, and the opportunity to be of use never seemed sweeter to her. She already found someone else, so early, immediately after losing Sai. She would have been a good wife, a good mother, a good ... she doesn't know what position Don Chinjao gave him, but whatever it was, it deserved a proper spouse. It doesn't matter: Miss Uholisia too will know how to do it. There’s something better waiting for her.

-Come on, warm yourself up.- one of the guards repeat – she can't tell which one, they’re as identical as two drops of water. She smiles, blushes again, turns her back to his hands. His fingers trace circles on her outstretched shoulder blades, removing the cold like fog in the sun.

Baby 5 lets out a sigh of relief.

-Thank y... -

A tearing sound, and her convict uniform slides to the ground. The freezing wind slaps her hips and chest. The same hands that massaged her clench her wrists behind her back, a third hand covers her mouth and most of her face. She should kick, as they trained her to do: but her legs are immobile, as heavy as the stones of the walls.

-We need you.- they all say in unison.

Another tearing sound and a flash of deep red pain. The torches on the walls ignite her naked muscles with their flames. The hand that silences her gets wet with tears no less hot.

They tear off her bones, her nerves, the black hair that Jora loved to style. -We need you.- they repeat, until the words mix in a whirlwind of verses. Baby 5 can't scream, she kicks and scratches the air with legs she no longer feels. She shatters on the floor like a doll, as the cauldron of blood seethes in expectation.

-We need you.- But there is nothing more to take. Baby 5 does not know how much of her remains on her: her eyes are fixed on the ceiling and her hands tremble with fever.

She slips towards the cauldron and sinks into it like a stone, without even the strength to scream anymore.

_A dream. A goddamned dream_. Baby 5 has warm cheeks and sticky skin. Her hair looks like strings of wire when they passes through her hands. _I'm in a cell with my family, nobody needed me_.

Those words sound even more hideous as she sits up, pressing her hand against her chest. Her heart beats against her skin, her lungs screech with each breath. Of the eleven bodies that surround her, only one is not lying down, and stands over her like a mountain. Two thin yellow eyes stare at her in the half light with an inquiring look.

“Baby 5?” She has to blink to read his lips. “What’s wrong with you?”

He sits cross-legged, his gigantic hands on his lap, his eyes fixed on his own palms. He hands her the right hand so that she can pull herself up. Even in the dark, Baby 5 can see two puffy dark circles the size of her thumb, further deforming his graceless features.

-Hi there,- she murmurs. -Are you alright? Why aren’t you sleeping?-

“I’m on guard duty. What happened?”

_What guard duty?_ Baby 5 chases that thought away. They probably organized it while she was sleeping, and they must feel protected with Pica keeping an eye on them. Even without spikes in his shoulders, and his wrists girdled with seasone, few wouldn’t be intimidated by his stature and huge arms. _Until they hear him speak_.

-Nothing. Just a bad dream.- She straightens her hair, tormenting her fingers. She doesn't know from which way to look at him, what to expect. -You,- she finally stammers, -how are you? -

“Which part of 'I want to be alone' don't you understand?” he punctuates. Baby 5 instinctively takes a step back. _He can't do anything in here_, she remembers – and yet she’s certain that those punches, despite the handcuffs, could bring down a wall bare. The palm of his right is still stretched, but the left one is tight.

Pica stares at her from top to bottom. His frowning eyebrows relax. He exhales through the nose.

“Are you interested? I’ll make you happy: I feel awful."

Baby 5 shouldn't have expected amy different answer – yet those mute words sound wrong in that mouth. She mentally reproaches herself: everything is upside down, in Impel Down. Five pillars the Donquixiote Family who welcomed her into its soft wings had. Only two are left, and it is increasingly difficult to understand which one is shakier.

-If you want to talk, I'm here,- she tries. Pica stares at her again, as if he was struggling to distinguish her outlines. He raises an eyebrow.

-Ican listen to you,- Baby 5 repeats. -As in, I read your lips. You can let off some steam.-

“Do you want to be needed by me?” Even without a voice to accompany them, Baby 5 perceives the mocking tone of those words. Maybe she really wants to be useful to the Executive who branded her as a traitor without even asking a question; in any case, she doesn't want to think about it too much. It’ll always be better than going back to sleep and getting other pieces of her torn off her body.

-You can see it that way,- she whispers. -But I'm here for you. I won’t tell anyone, if it suits you.-

Pica turns his back on her, walks down the steps and sits down. He gathers his arms in his lap and arches his shoulders without more points as if to shield his chest. He turns to look at her.

“If you could choose who to be, who would you be?”

That soundless, breathless language again, for a question that has nothing to do with anything. With her stomach in a vise, Baby 5 whispers a "I don't know" - she can't say “of use" to him, she can't and doesn't want to handle one of his outbursts. She pulls her knees to her lap and makes herself comfortable next to her High Executive. Pica stares at the ceiling, as if to read something on it to guide them.

“I wish I was Trebol. I wish I had. He never cares about anyone.”

Baby 5 has no complaints, and a grip squeezes her stomach in reading the name of the Seat Of Clubs. She approaches Pica one palm before remembering that stone does not caress.

“We ate the Fruits together,” he continues. “Me, Trebol and Diamante. None of us wanted him, the Sticky Sticky, until he came forward. As if even covered in snot, he could still be the best. I wouldn't have accepted anything less than perfect.”

-Your skill is excellent too.- Baby 5 tries. -It suits you. You know how to use it very well.-

Pica snorts. "I could be tall beyond the clouds, and I would still have to watch out for myself. I could hear someone snickering from up there too. Trebol was worth a thousand times more than me, and now he's dead because I didn't have the balls to get up and go to that room."

-Hey.- Baby 5 lays her hand on his huge wrist. -It wasn't your fault. Trebol- she has a lump in her throat in pronouncing the name of the Executive who is no longer there, -he was not upset. He did it for all of us, and you were weak and tired. They kept you twice of our time in those rooms.-

"And they kept me so long because ..." Pica lifts his right palm, as if to indicate that he wants to close the subject. “Diamante raised me, but Trebol was our maester. From whom I learned nothing."

-You don't have to be like him. Nobody does it like Trebol.- He always told her that when, as a child, she would let her snot run down her nostrils to imitate him. Baby 5 hears his voice ringing between the walls of the cell. _Whatcha doin’, imitating me? Ne, Gladius, I’m the original and only_. She sighs. It took an internal wound to get that old slug out of the way, because nothing from outside would tange him.

-I don't know what exactly you're feeling- she whispers to Pica, -but I loved Trebol too. Everyone misses him greatly. He wishes you to be proud, remember?-

Pica turns abruptly, eyes wide and teeth clenched. This way he would look at the Pirate Hunter, before his three swords shattered his helmet still on his head. Baby 5 tightens her lips, forcing herself to withhold that gaze.

"Trebol expects too much," those tense lips quickly sync. "And so do you. I can't tolerate you being nice to me, not after what I've done to you."

He clenches the left fist, lays it on the right and squeezes it. Baby 5’s mouth is dry, and she breathes to hydrate it. -The past is in the past. Don’t think about it. If I were angry I wouldn't be here to talk to you.-

"Baby 5." Pica puts his left fist aside and raises his right to his face, covering his eyes. "You're damned impossible." He bends his neck back, retracting your lips into his mouth. As if something inside his throat was pressing to exit.

He sighs. Her face is contracted when she looks back at her.

-Can you keep a secret?-

Baby 5 opens her eyes, crawling backwards. She had forgotten, in those harzy days, how out of place _that_ voice was in _that_ body. She doesn't laugh, she doesn't have the will or strength, but his wide eyes are hard to miss.

She nods and lowers her head, praying that Pica's reflexes have been clouded by captivity and weakness. The man no longer looks at her in the eyes: he has both hands open in front of himself, and holds them open like the pages of a book.

Baby 5 staggers backwards. -Pica,- she pants. -What did you do?-

Rivulets of blood drip down the left, from the fingerless index to the elbow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came back, with all due respect.   
I have been proud of this story, but never caught the proper time to translate it.   
But I need to do it now, as I know I have some fans – some even new, believe it or not – and it's all worth it in the end.
> 
> Because Pica's secret will be special.


	6. Stone Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby 5 reminisces, Pica shows his hidden self, Diamante has regrets in fatherhood

The largest scar, a sand-colored gash as big as Baby 5's middle finger, goes from his little finger to the wrist of the his hand. A swarm of round spots, as thick as a pencil, dot both palms up to the fingertips. Bracelets of lighter, fresher skin encircle his wrists, identical rings run the length of his fingers. A pink swollen patch, perhaps the sign of a burn, deforms the meat pads under the phalanges. He has never seen, not even among the grimiest faces in the Corrida Colosseum, hands so badly reduced.

-What did that crazed she-devil do to you? -

The battered fingers close, then reopen. Pica keeps his gaze low and runs it on every parting of them.

-These.- He opens his hands, turns his swollen palms towards Baby 5. -Sadi-chan didn't make them.-

She stretches her neck, looking at them as if until then she has forgotten that Pica had hands in the first place. -Had it happened before, in battle? Or that swordsman, it must have been him.-

Pica shakes his head, avoiding her gaze. Baby 5 looks around, as if she was expecting to find the culprit among his family. Or, she realizes with horror, I have it in front of me.

"They used his hands as a pincushion." An image clouds the eyes of Baby 5: Jora slamming the door of her room in Dressrosa, cursing in the corridor against the _son of good people_ who has snitched her _fucking_ knitting needles again. Baby 5 staggers back, opening her mouth wide. Had the old woman looked into another room, down the hall, the one with the ancient swords hanging on the wall and the rock crystal chandelier, she would have gotten her precious needles back - and alongside them a secret that hurts, just like their tips stuck in the palms of the quietest High Executive.

Baby 5 shakes her head and opens her eyes wide. She rests her hands, reddened and still smooth, in those devastated palms. Fingers as big as her wrist bend over them, trembling.

-Pica,- she whispers. -How long has it been?-

-Since before we got to Dressrosa. Nobody knows. Not even Didi. And if you’re asking yourself this, then yes, there has never been a guard shift at all.- 

As long as he wore gloves, the cuts and bruises were not visible, and all he needed was to say that the blood was that of a poor wretch who had laughed. He probably did. _How much blood was on those gloves? And how many times was it not of enemies?_

-I cut myself. I prick myself. I burn myself. I pinch my fingers.- He has a monotone tone, like a shopping list. -Sometimes I put ice in my mouth. I chew it, or suck it until it melts.-

_Or you ask Monet_. Young Master had not made a turn when Pica's coughing continued to interrupt his instructions. Throat as red as a tomato and as swollen as a clenched fist: to Young Master’s question he had replied with another cough. Diamante had taken off his cloak and brought it to him to cover himself, but Pica did not seem to have seen him. _Monet and I did an experiment, he wrote on the board_. The Harpy had shrugged: -I hold him responsible for his decisions.-

-Once,- Pica's sigh breaks the silence, -I also licked some glass dust.-

-You risked choking yourself, and we razed the restaurant afterwards. I remember.- Baby 5 dips her palms into a pile of snow to calm down. -Why didn’t you ever tell us? Diamante could have...-

-Didi has taken care of me for decades. I should handle this on my own. Right now he already has enough problems to worry about a _self-harming soprano_.-

There is venom in his voice, at the last two words. Baby 5 wishes to tell herself that _he isn’t well, he isn’t himself, that his fever has gone up again_, but the truth is much clearer and more painful. One doesn't need a goad to hurt themselves.

-Don't do this,- she whispers. She lays a hand on his fingers, but Pica pushes her away with a dry gesture. -No need for you to act all nice. I know you hate me. I was horrible to you.-

-I don't ... -

-I know that nobody can stand me in here. That Young Master only kept me here out of pity. That Didi gave me _everything_, and in return I called him pathetic in front of Kyros.-

She wasn't there, but she doesn't need to ask for confirmation. She decides to let it go, even if her stomach gets heavier with each word. -These are just bad thoughts. I have them too. More often than you think.-

Her hand returns to the warrior's fingers. -Sai had laughed at you. I didn't even know him, and I went after him like a fish in the net. Maybe we were both horrible. It doesn’t matter. You need to ask for help, you could get very hurt.-

-I don't want to kill myself. It's just an outlet. Sometimes the only one that's enough for me.-

Pica looks at his left hand as if it was covered in dung and slams his fingers against the stone. A trail of blood spurts down the steps.

Baby 5 grabs his arm. -Stop it. Please. Stop doing this.-

Pica stares at her, standing over her. -Don't tell anyone, not even Didi. They mustn’t find out.-

Even sitting next to him, Baby 5 doesn't reach his shoulder. There’s no point in insisting, not with Pica, and that granite gaze does not encourage her to continue. Yet the Seat of Spades does not remove his hand, on the contrary, he faintly squeezes his fingers on hers. He is clinging to what he can find.

Responds to the squeeze. -Why did you tell it to me? You didn't want to tell Diamante, but Trebol, Young Master, Jora. One of them would have listened to you.-

-You’re the only one in here- Pica's expression softens, -who cares about how people see you. The others wouldn't understand. Not even if they tried.-

Baby 5 takes the blow with a gasp. Her tongue seems glued to the palate. _An useless person like you is not needed_, a voice says,out of from a face that she’d like to cover in kisses and riddle with an Armorphosis until not a trace of it is left. She doesn't even remember her name. She has no idea what she’s to do with it, as she now has a new and better family. Yet she can't help but dedicate her life to her, twisting herself to the point of pain just to please her. Even if she doesn't give her anything. Even if it hurts more and more every time.

Until that day, she did not imagine that anyone else could understand.

-You’re right. I love helping people. I love to be needed. - Mama probably doesn't even know she's in prison. She’d be disappointed enough without finding it out. -Today I want to help you. You're with your family. All of us together can help you to stop hurting yourself.-

-I've been too weak already. Weak people...-

-Asking for help is not a weak people thing .- _I interrupted Pica_, she thinks with a shudder, but not a sound does escape his thick open lips. -It means that you’re missing something that you can't get yourself. Diamante loves you, I understand it from the way he looks at you. We all love you.-

Pica shrugs, as if Baby 5 had just told him that the sky is green. Baby 5 runs the back of his hand, as rough and coarse as a stony ground, with her thumb.

-I promise you everything will be fine. Tomorrow we will tell them together.-

-A good laugh will break the boredom. Mr. Soprano is here for you.-

-Pica.- Baby 5 shakes his hand stronger and looks him in the eye. -No one is laughing at you. Not here. We are a family and we will help you.-

The warrior gulps, a shrill and out of tune noise. Baby 5 doesn’t move a muscle on her face. Pica pulls his bloody hand to his uniform and nods. She looks at him with apprehension: she had never seen fear in those little yellow eyes.

Dellinger is the first to approach.

-Is that why you never took your gloves off?- He shakes his head, touching Pica's bruised hands as if they were crystal. -I'm sorry. You have such wide nails, I really wanted to paint your nails. I had learned how to do the marble effect for you. I wanted to surprise you.-

Pica shakes his head, retreating into his shoulders. His cheeks are red. -You're cute.- Diamante's trembling hand, sitting by his side, squeezes his more tightly.

-I should have locked those knitting needles up.- Jora hisses. -If only I had noticed...-

-It doesn't matter.- Diamante clenches his teeth, livid, holding on to Pica's hand as if without it he couldn't stand up. His eyes are shiny, wide. -Why? Why, pebbles?-

-It gives me relief. It's the only thing that calms me down when I'm so angry I want to scream.- Pica says coldly. -And to punish myself, as weak people deserve.-

Gladius steps forward. -You're not…-

\- Then how do you explain _this_? -

Diamante pales, as Pica, with a trembling finger as big as the hilt of a dagger, points to his throat. A glacial gaze runs down the family. -Give it some time, wait a few years and you will see how it changes.- he mocks. -Your body is large, it has to adapt. You will have a proper baritone before you realize it.-

But nothing had changed, and the little she-devil has tortured him twice as long as our time just because she found his way of screaming funny. Diamante brings his hand to his mouth. -It's just a vo...-

-I wanted to perform with you. Brawl with you. Laugh with you.- Pica blinks. -Instead, I can't even speak on the Den Den Mushi without hearing the giggles on the other side.-

The only time he hadtried – they had urgently called from the border, and Young Master was in the shower – had not gone well for the poor snail. -If I was strong, I would have grabbed a surgeon by the shirt already and had him fix this fucking falsetto once and for all.-

-It’s not a falsetto. It's your voice.- Machvise speaks softly, as if to calm someone on the edge of a precipice. -Be proud. Don’t you remember Trebol's words?-

-Proud. _Ha, ha_. A good request for Mr. Soprano.-

-Stop calling yourself that,- Jora snaps.

Pica protrudes his lips. -Do you prefer Picastrato? Or I have others too.-

Diamante opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. His son's fists tremble, as if even the chains were too heavy for him. He snatches his hand from the gladiator's grip and drops it between his knees, splashing blood on the fabric that covers his thighs. His shoulders wince. Diamante places a hand on top of his arm, and a new sigh escapes from the warrior's lips.

-What does a diamond ever find in a pile of stones? -

He barely moves his lips, and that faint tone may be a child's voice. It is for Diamante: Baby 5 can see it from his wide eyes, from the lips that tremble as he breathes, from the fingers tight on the arm of the one he has raised.

-Diamonds are also r... - he tightens the lips, -rrochh…-

-Rock,- Baby 5 says, and Diamante nods. He puts his hand on his chest, pressing it slightly. -This Is good. You are good.-

-I should have had it lowered,- Pica repeats. -For real, not by jamming ice down my windpipe. I could have done it. But it's _my_ voice. It's me. I don’t sound different even in my dreams.-

-Because it is good,- Jora smiles, lifting his chin with her long-nailed hand.

-Weak people…-

-You aren’t weak.- Gladius' voice is peremptory, enough to make one forget who is the High Executive and who is the subordinate. -It’s just different from how you see it. Even now, with your face on the ground, you are strong. You always have been. If you think being strong is just hitting hard, you're out of the way. But you are strong. On this you can count.-

-Yet sometimes I’m so disgusted by me that I want to slap myself.-

-What did that diabolical woman ever do?- Lao G hisses. Baby 5 raises her arm in front of Pica's face, as if it made some difference in protecting him. She can transform herself into a shield too, but she has never done it since she had found out she can do it. _I leave the shields to the turtles_, he joked with Buffalo and Dellinger. _The Donquixiote family plays hard_.

It feels like another life now.

-Sadi-_chan_ has nothing to do with this. It has always been here, and only now does he let it out. It has all accumulated. He's been doing it for years. He found the strength to...-

-Years, Pebbles? - Diamante is even paler than usual. -No one has noticed.-

-I'm good at keeping quiet, can't you tell?- Pica's tone is shrill, but his tone of voice is cold enough to make one rigid. -Stone can hide unexpected surprises. Sometimes you find gold. Sometimes you find me.

Baby 5 can't tolerate him, so sarcastic. Pica has never been sarcastic, in the twenty years that she grew up with him. But in those twenty years he had never even cried, yet she remembers the walk well. Everything is upside down, in Impel Down.

-You are not made of stone, Pica. You are of flesh and blood. Stop running away. We are here, and we will help you.-

She feels like stone, as strong as the mountain that had almost crushed her. It is as if the frightened girl who was afraid of Pica and his millstone was a completely different person. At that moment, Baby 5 wishes her arms were a shield and a sword, to protect her Executive – her friend, her brother, her unexpected confidant – from anything that may still hurt him.

-Next time you want to hurt yourself, tell us.- Gladius steps forward. -We'll keep you busy until you don't think about it anymore. Even if I'm sleeping, wake me up and I'll be with you.-

-You can talk about how you feel, or get distracted with some amenities. You can even cry, if you want to,- Dellinger urges him.

Pica shakes his head at Dellinger's words. -I’ve cried enough already. And I don't even like it. I sound like a mewling puppy.-

-You sound like Pica, and that's okay.- Jora smiles, her tone is as sweet as honey. -We like you as you are, with your voice and your temper. You may not be made of stone, but you’re of something far more solid. An unrivaled work of art. Those who don’t know how to appreciate you don’t deserve to know you.-

-It's all up to you.- Machvise holds out an open hand. -Say a word and you can count on us_-in_.-

Pica inhales, exhales, strokes the steps with trembling fingertips. He rubs his right palm over his eyes. Baby 5 holds her breath. He doesn't look at anyone in particular when he answers.

-Please.- Not _I beg you_ like during the walk: not the plea of a wretch, but a familiar and honest request. The following words are a whisper. -Help me. I need help.-

A silence that seems like a sentence: then Buffalo comes forward, spreads his arms as long as the handcuffs allow him.

-Can I hug you?-

Pica doesn't cry. He doesn’t shout. He doesn't even twist his face. He wraps his arms around Buffalo's body, tightening his fingers around the fabric of his convict suit.

Diamante rests his palm between his shoulder blades, sighing.

-I- he scans -I-I l-l-owwh…- He clenches his teeth, takes a deep breath. -y-you, pebbles.-

-So do I, Didi.- Pica leans his cheek against Buffalo's shoulder in what looks like fatigue. -Thank you. Thank you for everything.-

Baby 5 stands up and puts his hand under Diamante's. Gladius joins with his. Dellinger. Jora. Sugar. Machvise – and all the others, until hardly any blood remains visible under the backs of their hands.

Baby 5's hand trembles when she pulls it away. Diamante blinks, tears run down his cheeks. -You’ve been tearing yourself apart for years, and I've never noticed. What kind of father did you find yourself with?-

An index finger with no fingernail lifts his chin, an inch as thick as a rope dries them. -A _diamond_ of a dad. The best.-

Diamante pulls himself back. -Stop it, come on.- He cleans his mouth. -You make me look like a good father.-

-Kyros ought to learn a couple things from you.-

-This too? Come on, please… please. Don’t overdo it.-

Pica takes on a thoughtful expression. -Alright. I'll stop.-

-Oh, here we go again.- Dellinger exclaims. Buffalo, Machvise and Baby 5 laugh under their breath.

Diamante lights up, stretches his now gaunt arms up to his shoulders. He smiles, but not as he would do in the arena. A sweet, harmonious smile.

-I admit it,- he mumbles. -I’m proud to have you as a son. You really grew. Trebol got it right as... as always.-

They didn't expect this: neither Baby 5 nor the others, judging by the looks they exchange. But it’s fine this way. And when Diamante curls up, his debilitated legs trembling beneath him, he surrounds Pica's cheeks with his hands and gives him a kiss in the middle of his forehead, Baby 5 forgets that she is in Impel Down.

What is to be done _after_ a crisis of this caliber seems to elude everyone as much as it escapes Baby 5. They all sit by the wall, in a circle, as if there was a fire between them to replenish them. She is curled up comfortably between Sugar and Señor Pink, her back against the wall and her frosted fingers curled under her knees.

Buffalo holds Dellinger up from under his feet. His fingers slide into Pica’s rigid and opaque ringlets, and weaves them one on top of the other in an interlacement that Baby 5 doesn’t try to follow. The colossus is curled in his shoulders, his red eyes dart from one face to the other, and back on his own hands. He doesn't smile, but doesn't look sad either. Baby 5 would call him "calm": she prays it’ll be enough.

-These are some complex pigtails.-he comments tonelessly.

-I'll do you pigtails another time. I have something special in store for you.-Dellinger runs a braid over his ears and lets it hang behind his cheek. -A warrior like you deserves a helm, don't you think? -

Pica raises his hand, and Dellinger slowly pulls it away. -No touchy. Let me work. Kyaah, I'm just sorry you don't have a mirror to see it.-

Diamante sighs, squeezing his son's wrist with a shaking hand. Sweat drips down his neck. Even his smile seems tired. He leans his cheek on Pica's shoulder, who settles him with the palm of his hand.

-I have to thank you. Everyone, but Baby 5 in particular.- The Seat of Spades speaks in a low voice, clutching his knees. Baby 5 bends his head in agreement. -I feel good. Better, at least. It's time to see how strong I really am.-

That’s what families do.- Machvise grins. -Don't make a drama out of it. You relax, you feel better, and we get to keep our precious stone. A fair exchange.-

\- Are you still going on with this family bullshit? - a voice from the wall yells. -Don’t you ever grow up? -

-Ugh!- Jora rolls her eyes. Señor Pink bites his non-existent pacifier.

-I hope Young Master doesn't have such annoying neighbors in his cell,- Gladius snorts.

Dellinger cups his hands to his mouth. -You got a problem? Why don't you come here and tell us to our faces? We are rusty, but we still hit hard.-

The man laughs, a harsh and graceless laugh. -We are in Impel Down, cutiepies. Everyone has to live out for himself, or they get it in a not very nice place! Anyone should know.-

-We are not anyone!- Sugar screams. -And now leave us alone, you loser! I hope you die!- She crosses her arms, grinning at the silence that follows her.

-You haven't lost your foul mouth. That's good.- Jora grins. -Let’s honor that poor fellow-_zamazu_.-

-If my death threats worked with Trebol, maybe that wretch can follow him. That walking booger would work him well, wherever he has ended up.-

A burst of laughter fills the cell. Pica covers his mouth with his free hand, but his peculiar laugh loosens a knot in Baby 5's stomach. She feels exhausted after that confession – but happy, fulfilled, like after a great victory with Young Master.

_Useless people like you are ones that are not needed,_ someone whispers from deep within her. Baby 5 clenches her lips. _It’s not true_, she wants to scream. _Pica needed me. You're wrong, you've always been wrong. I don't want to see you ever again_.

Gladius jerks his neck, his eyes wide. Baby 5 suddenly turns to Pica, but the officer sits calmly, holding four new braids on the top of his head. Jora leans forward too, and looks at her with concern. -What happens, child? You’re crying.-

Baby 5 touches her face, and retracts a wet finger. Her skin is so hot she’s surprised the tears don’t evaporate.

-I wish my mother could see us.- she whispers. -It’d be so...-

_Proud? Resenting? Curious?_ There are no words on the tip of her tongue. Baby 5 covers her cheeks with her palms, smiles stiffly without a shred of a response.

-It seems to me,- Sugar says calmly, -that someone else has some secrets to confess.-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can only hope that I handled this topic well.   
I have been imagining Pica as a self harmer for years, feeling lost and left behind, thus taking it out on himself.   
I have done research on various sources, and I mean no disrespect in handling the topic of self harm.   
But we can only hope that Pica is being cared for and comforted well. Even if his pain is far from over, and what he needs is time and care. 
> 
> If you are feeling the same thoughts portrayed in this story, don't be afraid. Call for help. Let yourself be cared for, remember that there's people who love you and want you to be happy. That you deserve to be happy, and one day you will be too.   
I will be adding some helpful links.   
https://kidshelpline.com.au/teens/issues/self-harm  
https://www.lifeline.org.au/get-help/information-and-support/self-harm/  
https://kidshelpline.com.au/parents/issues/self-harm-explained
> 
> I also recommend the app Calm Harm, specifically designed with self harmers in mind. It can be downloaded for android or iPhone, and it serves the purpose of distracting oneself, finding comfort and relief when in need.  
We love you.  
Lady R


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